'  RI    4ND     I 


<«"  We  wkrrb&tk  4t't\i*  •'breaking 


See  page  338. 


D  'RI 


A  TALE  of  DARING  DEEDS  in  the 
SECOND  WAR  with  the  BRITISH. 
Being  the  Memoirs  of  Colonel  Ramon 
Bell,  U.S.A. 


BY  IRVING  BACHELLER,  author 
of  "  Eben  Holden." 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  YOHN 


LOTHROP     PUBLISHING     COMPANY 
BOSTON 


ALL  RIGHTS 

RESERVED 


ENTERED  AT 
STATIONERS* 
HALL 


FIRST  PRINTING 
JULT  25 tb .     SE VE NTT- 
FIFTH  THOUSAND 

ONE  HUNDREDTH 
THOUSAND 
AUGUST  s^d,  1 90 1 

ONE  HUNDRED  AND 
TWENTY-FIFTH  THOUSAND 
OCTOBER  28tby  igoi 

ONE  HUNDRED  AND 
FIFTIETH  THOUSAND 
NOVEMBER  i6tb,  igoi 

ONE  HUNDRED  AND 
SIXTIETH  THOUSAND 
FEBRUARY  jd, 


PREFACE 

JL  HIS  is  a  tale  of  the  adventurous  and  rugged 
pioneers,  who,  unconquered  by  other  foes,  were 
ever  at  war  with  the  ancient  wilderness,  push 
ing  the  northern  frontier  of  the  white  man  far 
ther  and  farther  to  the  west.  Early  in  the 
last  century  they  had  striped  the  wild  waste 
of  timber  with  roadways  from  Lake  Champlain 
to  Lake  Ontario,  and  spotted  it  with  sown  acres 
wide  and  fair;  and  still,  as  they  swung  their 
axes  with  the  mighty  vigor  of  great  arms,  the 
forest  fell  before  them. 

In  a  long  valley  south  of  the  St.  Lawrence, 
sequestered  by  river,  lake,  and  wilderness,  they 
were  slow  to  lose  the  simplicity,  the  dialect, 
and  the  poverty  of  their  fathers. 

Some  Frenchmen  of  wealth  and  title,  having 
fled  the  Reign  of  Terror,  bought  a  tract  of  wild 
country  there  (six  hundred  and  thirty  thousand 


PREFACE 

acres)  and  began  to  fill  it  with  fine  homes.  It 
was  said  the  great  Napoleon  himself  would 
some  day  build  a  chateau  among  them.  A  few 
men  of  leisure  built  manor-houses  on  the  river 
front,  and  so  the  Northern  Yankee  came  to  see 
something  of  the  splendor  of  the  far  world,  with 
contempt,  as  we  may  well  imagine,  for  its  waste 
of  time  and  money. 

Those  days  the  North  country  was  a  theatre 
of  interest  and  renown.  Its  play  was  a  tragedy ; 
its  setting  the  ancient  wilderness ;  its  people  of 
all  conditions  from  king  to  farm  hand.  Cha 
teau  and  cabin,  trail  and  forest  road,  soldier 
and  civilian,  lake  and  river,  now  moonlit,  now 
sunlit,  now  under  ice  and  white  with  snow,  were 
of  the  shifting  scenes  in  that  play.  Sometimes 
the  stage  was  overrun  with  cavalry  and  noisy 
with  the  clang  of  steel  and  the  roar  of  the 
carronade. 

The  most  important  episodes  herein  are  of 
history,  —  so  romantic  was  the  life  of  that  time 
and  region.  The  marriage  is  almost  literally  a 
matter  of  record. 

A  good  part  of  the  author's  life  has  been 


PREFACE 

spent  among  the  children  of  those  old  raiders 
—  Yankee  and  Canadian  —  of  the  north  and 
south  shores  of  the  big  river.  Many  a  tale  of 
the  camp  and  the  night  ride  he  has  heard  in 
the  firelight  of  a  winter's  evening;  long  familiar 
to  him  are  the  ruins  of  a  rustic  life  more  splen 
did  in  its  day  than  any  north  of  Virginia.  So 
his  color  is  not  all  of  books,  but  of  inheritance 
and  of  memory  as  well. 

The  purpose  of  this  tale  is  to  extend  acquaint 
ance  with  the  plain  people  who  sweat  and  bled 
and  limped  and  died  for  this  Republic  of  ours. 
Darius,  or  "  D'ri "  as  the  woods  folk  called  him, 
was  a  pure-bred  Yankee,  quaint,  rugged,  wise, 
truthful ;  Ramon  had  the  hardy  traits  of  a  Puri 
tan  father,  softened  by  the  more  romantic  tem 
perament  of  a  French  mother.  They  had  no 
more  love  of  fighting  than  they  had  need  of  it. 


INTRODUCTION 

FROM  a  letter  of  Captain  Darius  Hawkins, 
U.  S.  A.,  introducing  Ramon  Bell  to  the  Comte 
de  Chaumont :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  COUNT  :  I  commend  to  your  kind 
offices  my  young  friend  Ramon  Bell,  the  son  of 
Captain  Bell,  a  cavalry  officer  who  long  ago 
warmed  his  sword  in  the  blood  of  the  British  on 
many  a  battle-field.  The  young  man  is  himself 
a  born  soldier,  as  brave  as  he  is  tall  and  hand 
some.  He  has  been  but  a  month  in  the  army, 
yet  I  have  not  before  seen  a  man  who  could 
handle  horse  and  sword  as  if  they  were  part  of 
him.  He  is  a  gentleman,  also,  and  one  after 
your  own  heart.  I  know,  my  dear  count,  you 
will  do  everything  you  can  to  further  the  work 
intrusted  to  him. 

"  Your  obedient  servant, 

"  DARIUS  HAWKINS." 

From  a  letter  of  Joseph  Bonaparte,  Comte  de 
Survilliers,  introducing  his  friend  Colonel  Ramon 

Bell  to  Napoleon  III  of  France:  — 

• 

"  He  has  had  a  career  romantic  and  interest 
ing  beyond  that  of  any  man  I  have  met  in 


INTRODUCTION 

America.  In  the  late  war  with  England  he  was 
the  master  of  many  situations  most  perilous  and 
difficult.  The  scars  of  ten  bullets  and  four 
sabre-thrusts  are  on  his  body.  It  gives  me  great 
pleasure,  my  dear  Louis,  to  make  you  to  know 
one  of  the  most  gallant  and  chivalrous  of  men. 
He  has  other  claims  upon  your  interest  and 
hospitality,  with  which  he  will  acquaint  you  in 
his  own  delightful  way." 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


"  We  were  both  near  breaking  down  " 

Frontispiece 

Uri  and  I Page  17 

"  I  could  not  for  the  life  of  me  tell  which  of  the 
two  charming  girls  I  loved  the  better"  . 

Page  1 10 

Louise         .         .         .         .         •         •  Page  122 

"  He  would  have  fought  to  the  death  then  and 
there  if  I  had  but  given  him  the  word" 

Page  167 

"  Come,  now,  my  pretty  prisoner ;  it  is  disagree 
able,  but  you  must  forgive  me"     .   Page  183 

"  Uri,  shaking  a  bloody,  tattered  flag,  shouted: 
<  Well  tek  care  o'  the  of  brig!'"  .  Page  243 

"  Then  I  leave  all  for  you  "         .         •  Page  3^5 


D'RI  AND  I 


POET  may  be  a  good  Compan 
ion,  but,  -8,0'  fer  ksvi-knoW,  'he  is 
ever  tlie  w.orst  ctf^ajth^4.:\£v^ 
as  grandfatKer  he  is  too  near, 
for  one  poet  can  lay  a  streak 
of  poverty  over  three  generations.  Doubt  not  I 
know  whereof  I  speak,  dear  reader,  for  my 
mother's  father  was  a  poet  —  a  French  poet, 
too,  whose  lines  had  crossed  the  Atlantic  long 
before  that  summer  of  1770  when  he  came 
to  Montreal.  He  died  there,  leaving  only 
debts  and  those  who  had  great  need  of  a 
better  legacy  —  my  mother  and  grandmother. 

As  to  my  father,  he  had  none  of  that  fatal 
folly  in  him.  He  was  a  mountaineer  of  Ver 
mont—a  man  of  steely  sinews  that  took  well  to 
the  grip  of  a  sword.  He  cut  his  way  to  fame  in 


D'RI  AND    I  16 

the  Northern  army  when  the  British  came  first 
to  give  us  battle,  and  a  bloody  way  it  was.  I 
have  now  a  faded  letter  from  Ethan  Allen,  grim 
old  warrior,  in  which  he  calls  my  father  "  the 
best  swordsman  that  ever  straddled  a  horse." 
He  was  a  "  gallous  chap  "  in  his  youth,  so  said 
my  grandmother,  with  a  great  love  of  good 
clothes  and  gunpowder.  He  went  to  Montreal, 
as  a;bpy,  to  be  educated;  took  lessons  in  fenc 
ing,  fought  "a'duei,  -ran  away  from  school,  and 
ea'srie'  fi.0ms :  w.ith  -little  learning  and  a  wife. 
Punished  by  disinheritance,  he  took  a  farm,  and 
left  the  plough  to  go  into  battle. 

I  wonder  often  that  my  mother  could  put  up 
with  the  stress  and  hardship  of  his  life,  for  she 
had  had  gentle  breeding,  of  which  I  knew  little 
until  I  was  grown  to  manhood,  when  I  came  to 
know  also  what  a  woman  will  do  for  the  love  of 
her  heart.  I  remember  well  those  tales  of 
knights  and  ladies  she  used  to  tell  me  as  we  sat 
together  of  an  evening,  and  also  those  adven 
tures  of  her  own  knight,  my  good  father,  in  the 
war  with  the  British.  My  love  of  arms  and  of 
a  just  quarrel  began  then. 

After  the  war  came  hard  times.     My  father 


UR1  and  1. 


D'RI  AND   I  17 

had  not  prospered  handsomely,  when,  near  the 
end  of  the  summer  of  1803,  he  sold  his  farm, 
and  we  all  started  West,  over  rough  trails  and 
roadways.  There  were  seven  of  us,  bound  for 
the  valley  of  the  St.  Lawrence  —  my  father  and 
mother,  my  two  sisters,  my  grandmother,  D'ri, 
the  hired  man,  and  myself,  then  a  sturdy  boy  of 
ten.  We  had  an  ox-team  and  -cart  that  carried 
our  provision,  the  sacred  feather  beds  of  my 
mother,  and  some  few  other  things. 

We  drove  with  us  the  first  flock  of  sheep  that 
ever  went  West.  There  were  forty  of  them, 
and  they  filled  our  days  with  trouble.  But  for 
our  faithful  dog  Rover,  I  fear  we  should  have 
lost  heart  and  left  them  to  the  wild  wolves.  The 
cart  had  a  low  cover  of  canvas,  and  my  mother 
and  grandmother  sat  on  the  feather  beds,  and 
rode  with  small  comfort  even  where  the  roads 
were  level.  My  father  let  me  carry  my  little 
pet  rooster  in  a  basket  that  hung  from  the  cart- 
axle  when  not  in  my  keeping.  The  rooster  had 
a  harder  time  than  any  of  us,  I  fancy,  for  the 
days  were  hot  and  the  roads  rough.  He  was 
always  panting,  with  open  mouth  and  thought 
ful  eye,  when  I  lifted  the  cover.  But  every 


D'RI  AND   I  18 

day  he  gave  us  an  example  of  cheerfulness  not 
wholly  without  effect  He  crowed  triumphantly, 
betimes,  in  the  hot  basket,  even  when  he  was 
being  tumbled  about  on  the  swamp  ways. 
Nights  I  always  found  a  perch  for  him  on  the 
limb  of  a  near  tree,  above  the  reach  of  preda 
tory  creatures.  Every  morning,  as  the  dawn 
showed  faintly  in  the  tree-tops,  he  gave  it  a 
lusty  cheer,  flapping  his  wings  with  all  the 
seeming  of  delight.  Then,  often,  while  the 
echo  rang,  I  would  open  my  eyes  and  watch  the 
light  grow  in  the  dusky  cavern  of  the  woods. 
He  would  sit  dozing  awhile  after  the  first  out 
break,  and  presently  as  the  flood  of  light  grew 
clearer,  lift  himself  a  little,  take  another  peep 
at  the  sky,  and  crow  again,  turning  his  head  to 
hear  those  weird,  mocking  roosters  of  the 
timber-land.  Then,  shortly,  I  would  hear  my 
father  poking  the  fire  or  saying,  as  he  patted 
the  rooster :  "  Sass  'em  back,  ye  noisy  little 
brat !  Thet  's  right :  holler.  Tell  D'ri  it 's  time 
t'  bring  some  wood  fer  the  fire." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  pot  and  kettle  would  be 
boiling  and  the  camp  all  astir.  We  had  trout 
and  partridge  and  venison  a-plenty  for  our 


D'RI  AND    I  i9 

meals,  that  were  served  in  dishes  of  tin. 
Breakfast  over,  we  packed  our  things.  The 
cart  went  on  ahead,  my  father  bringing  the 
oxen,  while  I  started  the  sheep  with  D'ri. 

Those  sheep  were  as  many  thorns  in  our 
flesh  that  day  we  made  off  in  the  deep  woods 
from  Lake  Champlain.  Travel  was  new  to 
them,  and  what  with  tearing  through  thickets 
and  running  wild  in  every  slash,  they  kept  us 
jumping.  When  they  were  leg- weary  and  used 
to  travel,  they  began  to  go  quietly.  But  slow 
work  it  was  at  best,  ten  or  twelve  miles  a  day 
being  all  we  could  do,  for  the  weather  was  hot 
and  our  road  like  the  way  of  the  transgressor. 
Our  second  night  in  the  woods  we  could  hear 
the  wolves  howling  as  we  camped  at  dusk.  We 
built  our  fire  near  the  shore  of  a  big  pond,  its 
still  water  framed  in  the  vivid  green  of  young 
tamaracks.  A  great  hill  rose  on  the  farther 
side  of  it,  with  galleries  of  timber  sloping  to  the 
summit,  and  peopled  with  many  birds.  We 
huddled  the  sheep  together  in  a  place  where  the 
trees  were  thick,  while  father  brought  from  the 
cart  a  coil  of  small  rope.  We  wound  it  about 
the  trees,  so  the  sheep  were  shut  in  a  little  yard. 


D'RI  AND   I  20 

After  supper  we  all  sat  by  the  fire,  while  D'ri 
told  how  he  had  been  chased  by  wolves  in  the 
beaver  country  north  of  us. 

D'ri  was  an  odd  character.  He  had  his  own 
way  of  expressing  the  three  degrees  of  wonder, 
admiration,  and  surprise.  "Jerushy!"  —  ac 
cented  on  the  second  syllable  —  was  the  posi 
tive,  "  Jerushy  Jane !  "  the  comparative,  and 
"  Jerushy  Jane  Pepper !  "  the  superlative.  Who 
that  poor  lady  might  be  I  often  wondered,  but 
never  ventured  to  inquire.  In  times  of  stress  I 
have  heard  him  swear  by  "Judas  Priest,"  but 
never  more  profanely.  In  his  youth  he  had 
been  a  sailor  on  the  lake,  when  some  artist  of 
the  needle  had  tattooed  a  British  jack  on  the 
back  of  his  left  hand  —  a  thing  he  covered,  of 
shame  now,  when  he  thought  of  it.  His  right 
hand  had  lost  its  forefinger  in  a  sawmill.  His 
rifle  was  distinguished  by  the  name  of  Beeswax, 
-  "  Ol'  Beeswax  "  he  called  it  sometimes,  —  for 
no  better  reason  than  that  it  was  "easy  spoke 
an'  hed  a  kind  uv  a  powerful  soun'  tew  it." 
He  had  a  nose  like  a  shoemaker's  thumb  :  there 
was  a  deep  incurve  from  its  wide  tip  to  his  fore 
head.  He  had  a  large,  gray,  inquiring  eye  and 


D'RI  AND   I  21 

the  watchful  habit  of  the  woodsman.  Some 
where  in  the  midst  of  a  story  he  would  pause 
and  peer  thoughtfully  into  the  distance,  mean 
while  feeling  the  pipe-stem  with  his  lips,  and 
then  resume  the  narrative  as  suddenly  as  he 
had  stopped.  He  was  a  lank  and  powerful 
man,  six  feet  tall  in  his  stockings.  He  wore  a 
thin  beard  that  had  the  appearance  of  parched 
grass  on  his  ruddy  countenance.  In  the  matter 
of  hair,  nature  had  treated  him  with  a  generos 
ity  most  unusual.  His  heavy  shock  was 
sheared  off  square  above  his  neck. 

That  evening,  as  he  lay  on  his  elbow  in  the 
firelight,  D'ri  had  just  entered  the  eventful  field 
of  reminiscence.  The  women  were  washing 
the  dishes ;  my  father  had  gone  to  the  spring 
for  water.  D'ri  pulled  up  suddenly,  lifted  his 
hat  of  faded  felt,  and  listened,  peering  into  the 
dusk. 

"  Seems  t'  me  them  wolves  is  comin'  nearer," 
he  said  thoughtfully. 

Their  cries  were  echoing  in  the  far  timber. 
We  all  rose  and  listened.  In  a  moment  my 
father  came  hurrying  back  with  his  pail  of 
water. 


D'RI  AND   I  22 

"  D'ri,"  said  he,  quietly,  as  he  threw  some 
wood  on  the  fire,  "they  smell  mutton.  Mek 
the  guns  ready.  We  may  git  a  few  pelts. 
There 's  a  big  bounty  on  'em  here  'n  York 
State." 

We  all  stood  about  the  fire  listening  as  the 
wolves  came  nearer. 

"  It  's  the  sheep  thet  brings  'em,"  said  my 
father. 

"  Quite  a  consid'able  number  on  'em,  tew," 
said  D'ri,  as  he  stood  cleaning  the  bore  of  his 
rifle. 

My  young  sisters  began  to  cry. 

"Need  n't  be  scairt,"  said  father.  "They 
won't  come  very  near.  'Fraider  of  us  'n  we 
are  o'  'em,  a  good  deal." 

"  Tow-w-w !  "  said  D'ri,  with  a  laugh. 
"  They  '11  be  apt  t'  stub  ther  toes  'fore  they 
git  very  nigh  us." 

This  did  not  quite  agree  with  the  tales  he 
had  previously  been  telling.  I  went  for  my 
sword,  and  buckled  its  belt  about  me,  the 
scabbard  hanging  to  my  heels-  Presently 
some  creature  came  bounding  over  the  brush. 
I  saw  him  break  through  the  wall  of  dark- 


D'RI  AND   I  23 

ness  and  stop  quickly  in  the  firelight.  Then 
D'ri  brought  him  down  with  his  rifle. 

"Started  him  up  back  there  'n  the  woods 
a  few  mild,"  said  D'ri.  "  He  was  mekin'  fer 
this  'ere  pond  — thet  's  what  he  was  dewin'." 

"What  for  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  'Cause  fer  the  reason  why  he  knowed 
he  would  n't  mek  no  tracks  'n  the  water,  ner 
no  scent,"  said  D'ri,  with  some  show  of  con 
tempt  for  my  ignorance. 

The  deer  lay  floundering  in  the  briers 
some  fifty  feet  away.  My  father  ran  with 
his  knife  and  put  him  quickly  out  of  misery. 
Then  we  hauled  the  carcass  to  clear  ground. 

"  Let  it  lie  where  't  is  fer  now,"  said  he,  as 
we  came  back  to  the  fire.  Then  he  got  our 
two  big  traps  out  of  the  cart  and  set  them 
beside  the  carcass  and  covered  them  with 
leaves.  The  howling  of  the  wolves  had 
ceased.  I  could  hear  only  the  creaking  of  a 
dead  limb  high  above  us,  and  the  bellow  of 
frogs  in  the  near  pond.  We  had  fastened  the 
trap  chains  and  were  coming  back  to  the 
fire,  when  the  dog  rose,  barking  fiercely ;  then 
we  heard  the  crack  of  D'ri's  rifle. 


D'RI  AND   I  24 

"More  'n  fifty  wolves  eroun'  here,"  he 
whispered  as  we  ran  up  to  him.  "  Never  see 
sech  a  snag  on  'em." 

The  sheep  were  stirring  nervously.  Near 
the  pen  a  wolf  lay  kicking  where  D'ri  had 
dropped  him. 

"  Rest  on  'em  snooked  off  when  the  gun 
hollered,"  he  went  on,  whispering  as  before. 

My  mother  and  grandmother  sat  with  my 
sisters  in  the  cart,  hushing  their  murmurs  of 
fear.  Early  in  the  evening  I  had  tied  Rover 
to  the  cart-wheel,  where  he  was  growling 
hotly,  impatient  of  the  leash. 

"  See  ? "  said  D'ri,  pointing  with  his  finger. 
"See  'em?  —  there  'n  the  dark  by  thet  air  big 
hemlock." 

We  could  make  out  a  dim  stir  in  the 
shadows  where  he  pointed.  Presently  we 
heard  the  spring  and  rattle  of  a  trap.  As 
we  turned  that  way,  the  other  trap  took  hold 
hard  ;  as  it  sprang,  we  could  hear  a  wolf  yelp. 

"  Meks  'em  holler,"  said  D'ri,  "  thet  ol'  he- 
trap  does,  when  it  teks  holt.  Stay  here  by 
the  sheep,  'n'  I  '11  go  over  'n'  give  'em  some- 
thin'  fer  spraint  ankles." 


D'RI  AND   I  25 

Other  wolves  were  swarming  over  the 
dead  deer,  and  the  two  in  the  traps  were 
snarling  and  snapping  at  them.  My  father 
and  D'ri  fired  at  the  bunch,  killing  one  of 
the  captives  and  another  —  the  largest  wolf  I 
ever  saw.  The  pack  had  slunk  away  as  they 
heard  the  rifles.  Our  remaining  captive  strug 
gled  to  get  free,  but  in  a  moment  D'ri  had 
brained  him  with  an  axe.  He  and  my  father 
reset  our  traps  and  hauled  the  dead  wolves 
into  the  firelight.  There  they  began  to  skin 
them,  for  the  bounty  was  ten  dollars  for  each 
in  the  new  towns  —  a  sum  that  made  our  ad 
venture  profitable.  I  built  fires  on  the  farther 
side  of  the  sheep,  and,  as  they  brightened,  I 
could  see,  here  and  there,  the  gleaming  eyes 
of  a  wolf  in  the  darkness.  I  was  up  all  night 
heaping  wood  upon  the  fires,  while  D'ri  and 
my  father  skinned  the  wolves  and  dressed  the 
deer.  I  remember,  as  they  worked,  D'ri 
calmed  himself  with  the  low-sung,  familiar 
music  of : — 

Li  too  rul  I  oorul  I  oorul  I  ay. 

They  had  just  finished  when  the  cock  crew.     ^ 
"  Holler,    ye    gol-dum    little    cuss !  "       D'ri 


D'RI  AND   I  26 

shouted  as  he  went  over  to  him.  "Can't  no 
snookin'  wolf  crack  our  bones  fer  us.  Peeled 
'em  —  thet  's  what  we  done  tew  'em  !  Tuk  V 
knocked  'em  head  over  heels.  Judas  Priest! 
He  can  peck  a  man's  ringer  some,  can't 
he  ?  " 

The  light  was  coming,  and  he  went  off  to 
the  spring  for  water,  while  I  brought  the 
spider  and  pots.  The  great,  green-roofed 
temple  of  the  woods,  that  had  so  lately  rung 
with  the  howl  of  wolves,  began  to  fill  with  far 
wandering  echoes  of  sweet  song. 

"They  was  a  big  cat  over  there  by  the 
spring  las'  night,"  said  D'ri,  as  we  all  sat 
down  to  breakfast.  "  Tracks  bigger  'n  a  grid 
dle  !  Smelt  the  mutton,  mos'  likely." 

"  Like  mutton  ?  "     I  inquired. 

" Yis-sir-ee,  they  dew,"  said  he.  "Kind  o' 
mince-pie  fer  'em.  Like  deer-meat,  tew. 
Snook  eroun'  the  ponds  efter  dark.  Ef  they 
see  a  deer  'n  the  water  they  wallop  'im 
quicker  'n  lightnin' ;  jump  right  in  k'slap  'n' 
tek  'im." 

We  were  off  at  sunrise,  on  a  road  that 
grew  rougher  every  mile.  At  noon  we  came 


D'RI  AND    I  27 

to  a  river  so  swollen  as  to  make  a  dangerous 
ford.  After  dinner  my  father  waded  in, 
going  hips  under  where  the  water  was  deep 
and  swift.  Then  he  cut  a  long  pole  and  took 
my  mother  on  his  shoulders  and  entered  the 
broad  stream,  steadying  himself  with  the  pole. 
When  she  had  got  down  safe  on  the  other  side, 
he  came  back  for  grandmother  and  my  sis 
ters,  and  took  them  over  in  the  same  way. 
D'ri,  meanwhile,  bound  up  the  feather  beds 
and  carried  them  on  his  head,  leaving  the  dog 
and  me  to  tend  the  sheep.  All  our  blankets 
and  clothing  were  carried  across  in  the  same 
manner.  Then  I  mounted  the  cart,  with  my 
rooster,  lashing  the  oxen  till  they  took  to  the 
stream.  They  had  tied  the  bell-wether  to  the 
axle,  and,  as  I  started,  men  and  dog  drove 
the  sheep  after  me.  The  oxen  wallowed  in 
the  deep  water,  and  our  sheep,  after  some  hesi 
tation,  began  to  swim.  The  big  cart  floated 
like  a  raft  part  of  the  way,  and  we  landed 
with  no  great  difficulty.  Farther  on,  the  road 
became  nothing  better  than  a  rude  trail, 
where,  frequently,  we  had  to  stop  and  chop 
through  heavy  logs  and  roll  them  away.  6n 


D'RI  AND   I  28 

a  steep  hillside  the  oxen  fell,  breaking  the 
tongue,  and  the  cart  tipped  sidewise  and 
rolled  bottom  up.  My  rooster  was  badly  flung 
about,  and  began  crowing  and  flapping  as  the 
basket  settled.  When  I  opened  it,  he  flew 
out,  running  for  his  life,  as  if  finally  resolved 
to  quit  us.  Fortunately,  we  were  all  walking, 
and  nobody  was  hurt.  My  father  and  D'ri 
were  busy  half  a  day  "righting  up,"  as  they 
called  it,  mending  the  tongue  and  cover, 
and  getting  the  cart  on  its  wheels  and  down 
the  steep  pitch. 

After  two  days  of  trail  travel  we  came  out  on 
the  Chateaugay  road,  stopping  awhile  to  bait 
our  sheep  and  cattle  on  the  tame  grass  and 
tender  briers.  It  was  a  great  joy  to  see  the 
clear  road,  with  here  and  there  a  settler's  cabin, 
its  yard  aglow  with  the  marigold,  the  hollyhock, 
and  the  fragrant  honeysuckle.  We  got  to  the 
tavern  at  Chateaugay  about  dusk,  and  put  up 
for  the  night,  as  becomes  a  Christian. 

Next  afternoon  we  came  to  rough  roads  again, 
camping  at  sundown  along  the  shore  of  a  noisy 
brook.  The  dog  began  to  bark  fiercely  while  sup 
per  was  making,  and  scurried  off  into  a  thicket. 


D'RI  AND    I 


29 


D'ri  was  stooping  over,  cooking  the  meat. 
He  rose  and  listened. 

"  Thet  air  dog 's  a  leetle  scairt,"  said  he. 
"  Guess  we  better  go  'n'  see  whut  's  the 
matter." 

He  took  his  rifle  and  I  my  sword,  —  I  never 
thought  of  another  weapon,  —  making  off 
through  the  brush.  The  dog  came  whining  to 
D'ri  and  rushing  on,  eager  for  us  to  follow.  We 
hurried  after  him,  and  in  a  moment  D'ri  and  the 
dog,  who  were  ahead  of  me,  halted  suddenly. 

"  It  's  a  painter,"  said  D'ri,  as  I  came  up. 
"  See  'im  in  thet  air  tree-top.  I  '11  larrup  'im 
with  Ol'  Beeswax,  then  jes'  like  es  not  he  '11  mek 
some  music.  Better  grab  holt  o'  the  dog. 
'T  won't  dew  fer  'im  to  git  tew  rambunctious, 
er  the  fust  thing  he  knows  he  won't  hev  no 
insides  in  'im." 

I  could  see  the  big  cat  clinging  high  in  the 
top  boughs  of  a  birch  and  looking  calmly  down 
at  us.  The  tree-top  swayed,  quivering,  as  it 
held  the  great  dun  beast.  My  heart  was  like 
to  smother  me  when  D'ri  raised  his  rifle  and 
took  aim.  The  dog  broke  away  at  the  crack  of 
it.  The  painter  reeled  and  spat ;  then  he  came 


D'RI  AND   I  30 

crashing  through  the  branches,  striking  right 
and  left  with  his  fore  paws  to  save  himself. 
He  hit  the  ground  heavily,  and  the  dog  was  on 
him.  The  painter  lay  as  if  dead.  Before  I 
could  get  near,  Rover  began  shaking  him  by  the 
neck.  He  came  to  suddenly,  and  struck  the 
dog  with  a  front  claw,  dragging  him  down.  A 
loud  yelp  followed  the  blow.  Quick  as  a  flash 
D'ri  had  caught  the  painter  by  the  tail  and  one 
hind  leg.  With  a  quick  surge  of  his  great, 
slouching  shoulders,  he  flung  him  at  arm's- 
length.  The  lithe  body  doubled  on  a  tree  trunk, 
quivered,  and  sank  down,  as  the  dog  came  free. 
In  a  jiffy  I  had  run  my  sword  through  the  cat's 
belly  and  made  an  end  of  him. 

"  Knew  'f  he  got  them  hind  hooks  on  thet  air 
dog  he  'd  rake  his  ribs  right  off,"  said  D'ri,  as  he 
lifted  his  hat  to  scratch  his  head.  "  Would  n't 
'a'  left  nothin'  but  the  backbone,  —  nut  a  thing, 
-  an'  thet  would  n't  'a'  been  a  real  fust-class 
one,  nuther." 

When  D'ri  was  very  positive,  his  words  were 
well  braced  with  negatives. 

We  took  the  painter  by  the  hind  legs  and 
dragged  him  through  the  bushes  to  our  camp. 


D'RI  AND   I  31 

The  dog  had  a  great  rip  across  his  shoulder, 
where  the  claws  had  struck  and  made  furrows ; 
but  he  felt  a  mighty  pride  in  our  capture,  and 
never  had  a  better  appetite  for  a  meal. 

There  were  six  more  days  of  travel  in  that 
journey  —  travel  so  fraught  with  hardships,  I 
wonder  that  some  days  we  had  the  heart  to 
press  on.  More  than  all,  I  wonder  that  the 
frail  body  of  my  mother  was  equal  to  it.  But  I 
am  writing  no  vain  record  of  endurance.  I  have 
written  enough  to  suggest  what  moving  meant 
in  the  wilderness.  There  is  but  one  more  color 
in  the  scenes  of  that  journey.  The  fourth  day 
after  we  left  Chateaugay  my  grandmother  fell 
ill  and  died  suddenly  there  in  the  deep  woods. 
We  were  far  from  any  village,  and  sorrow 
slowed  our  steps.  We  pushed  on,  coming  soon 
to  a  sawmill  and  a  small  settlement.  They  told 
us  there  was  neither  minister  nor  undertaker 
within  forty  miles.  My  father  and  D'ri  made 
the  coffin  of  planed  lumber,  and  lined  it  with 
deerskin,  and  dug  the  grave  on  top  of  a  high 
hill.  When  all  was  ready,  my  father,  who 
had  always  been  much  given  to  profanity, 
albeit  I  know  he  was  a  kindly  and  honest  man 


D'RI  AND    I 


32 


with  no   irreverence  in   his   heart,    called    D'ri 
aside. 

"D'ri,"  said  he,  "ye  've  alwus  been  more 
proper-spoken  than  I  hev.  Say  a  word  o' 
prayer  ? " 

"Don't  much  b'lieve  I  could,"  said  he, 
thoughtfully.  "  I  hev  been  t'  meetin',  but  I 
hain't  never  been  no  great  hand  fer  prayin'." 

"  'T  would  n't  sound  right  nohow  fer  me  t' 
pray,"  said  my  father,  "  I  got  s'  kind  o'  rough 
when  I  was  in  the  army." 

"  'Fraid  it  '11  come  a  leetle  unhandy  fer  me," 
said  D'ri,  with  a  look  of  embarrassment,  "but 
I  don't  never  shirk  a  tough  job  ef  it  hes  t'  be 
done." 

Then  he  stepped  forward,  took  off  his  faded 
hat,  his  brow  wrinkling  deep,  and  said,  in  a 
drawling  preacher  tone  that  had  no  sound  of 
D'ri  in  it :  "  O  God,  tek  care  o'  gran'ma.  Help 
us  t'  go  on  careful,  an'  wiien  we  're  riled,  help 
us  t'  keep  er  mouths  shet.  O  God,  help  the  ol' 
cart,  an'  the  ex  in  pertic'lar.  An'  don't  be  no 
way  hard  on  us.  Amen." 


II 


33 


UNE  was  half  over  when  we 
came  to  our  new  home  in  the 
town  of  Madrid  —  then  a  home 
only  for  the  foxes  and  the  fowls 
of  the  air  and  their  wild  kin 
of  the  forest.  The  road  ran  through  a  little 
valley  thick  with  timber  and  rock-bound  on 
the  north.  There  were  four  families  within 
a  mile  of  us,  all  comfortably  settled  in  small 
log  houses.  For  temporary  use  we  built  a 
rude  bark  shanty  that  had  a  partition  of 
blankets,  living  in  this  primitive  manner  un 
til  my  father  and  D'ri  had  felled  the  timber 
and  built  a  log  house.  We  brought  flour  from 
Malone,  —  a  dozen  sacks  or  more,  —  and  while 
they  were  building,  I  had  to  supply  my  mother 
with  fish  and  game  and  berries  for  the  table  — 
a  thing  easy  enough  to  do  in  that  land  of  plenty. 
When  the  logs  were  cut  and  hewn  I  went  away* 


D'RI  AND   I 


34 


horseback,  to  Canton  for  a  jug  of  rum.  I  was 
all  day  and  half  the  night  going  and  coming, 
and  fording  the  Grasse  took  me  stirrups  under. 

Then  the  neighbors  came  to  the  raising  —  a 
jolly  company  that  shouted  "  Hee,  oh,  hee  !  "  as 
they  lifted  each  heavy  log  to  its  place,  and  grew 
noisier  quaffing  the  odorous  red  rum,  that  had 
a  mighty  good  look  to  me,  although  my  father 
would  not  hear  of  my  tasting  it.  When  it  was 
all  over,  there  was  nothing  to  pay  but  our 
gratitude. 

While  they  were  building  bunks,  I  went  off  to 
sawmill  with  the  oxen  for  boards  and  shingles. 
Then,  shortly,  we  had  a  roof  over  us  and  floors 
to  walk  on,  and  that  luxury  D'ri  called  a  "pyaz," 
although  it  was  not  more  than  a  mere  shelf  with 
a  roof  over  it.  We  chinked  the  logs  with  moss 
and  clay  at  first,  putting  up  greased  paper  in 
the  window  spaces.  For  months  we  knew  not 
the  luxury  of  the  glass  pane. 

That  summer  we  "changed  work"  with  the 
neighbors,  and  after  we  had  helped  them  awhile 
they  turned  to  in  the  clearing  of  our  farm.  We 
felled  the  trees  in  long,  bushy  windrows,  heap 
ing  them  up  with  brush  and  small  wood  when 


D'RI  AND   I 


35 


the  chopping  was  over.  That  done,  we  fired 
the  rows,  filling  the  deep  of  heaven  with  smoke, 
as  it  seemed  to  me,  and  lighting  the  night  with 
great  billows  of  flame. 

By  mid-autumn  we  had  cleared  to  the  stumps 
a  strip  half  down  the  valley  from  our  door. 
Then  we  turned  to  on  the  land  of  our  neighbors, 
my  time  counting  half,  for  I  was  sturdy  and 
could  swing  the  axe  to  a  line,  and  felt  a  joy  in 
seeing  the  chips  fly.  But  my  father  kept  an 
eye  on  me,  and  held  me  back  as  with  a  leash. 

My  mother  was  often  sorely  tried  for  the 
lack  of  things  common  as  dirt  these  better  days. 
Frequently  our  only  baking-powder  was  white 
lye,  made  by  dropping  ash-cinders  into  water. 
Our  cinders  were  made  by  letting  the  sap  of 
green  timber  drip  into  hot  ashes.  Often  deer's 
tallow,  bear's  grease,  or  raccoon's  oil  served  for 
shortening,  and  the  leaves  of  the  wild  raspberry 
for  tea.  Our  neighbors  went  to  mill  at  Canton 
—  a  journey  of  five  days,  going  and  coming, 
with  an  ox-team,  and  beset  with  many  difficul 
ties.  Then  one  of  them  hollowed  the  top  of  a 
stump  for  his  mortar  and  tied  his  pestle  to  the 
bough  of  a  tree.  With  a  rope  he  drew  the" 


D'RI  AND   I  36 

bough  down,  which,  as  it  sprang  back,  lifted 
the  pestle  that  ground  his  grain. 

But  money  was  the  rarest  of  all  things  in  our 
neighborhood  those  days.  Pearlash,  black-salts, 
West  India  pipe-staves,  and  rafts  of  timber 
brought  cash,  but  no  other  products  of  the  early 
settler.  Late  that  fall  my  mother  gave  a  dance, 
a  rude  but  hearty  pleasuring  that  followed  a 
long  conference  in  which  my  father  had  a  part. 
They  all  agreed  to  turn  to,  after  snowfall,  on 
the  river-land,  cut  a  raft  of  timber,  and  send  it 
to  Montreal  in  the  spring.  Our  things  had 
come,  including  D'ri's  fiddle,  so  that  we  had 
chairs  and  bedsteads  and  other  accessories  of 
life  not  common  among  our  neighbors.  My 
mother  had  a  few  jewels  and  some  fine  old 
furniture  that  her  father  had  given  her,  — really 
beautiful  things,  I  have  since  come  to  know, — 
and  she  showed  them  to  those  simple  folk  with 
a  mighty  pride  in  her  eyes. 

Business  over,  D'ri  took  down  his  fiddle,  that 
hung  -on  the  wall,  anc;  made  the  strings  roar  as 
he  tuned  them.  Then  he  threw  his  long  right 
leg  over  the  other,  and,  as  he  drew  the  bow, 
his  big  foot  began  to  pat  the  floor  a  good  pace 


D'RI  AND   I 


37 


away.  His  chin  lifted,  his  fingers  flew,  his 
bow  quickened,  the  notes  seemed  to  whirl  and 
scurry,  light-footed  as  a  rout  of  fairies.  Mean 
while  the  toe  of  his  right  boot  counted  the  in 
creasing  tempo  until  it  came  up  and  down  like 
a  ratchet. 

Darius  Olin  was  mostly  of  a  slow  and  sober 
manner.  To  cross  his  legs  and  feel  a  fiddle 
seemed  to  throw  his  heart  open  and  put  him  in 
full  gear.  Then  his  thoughts  were  quick,  his 
eyes  merry,  his  heart  was  a  fountain  of  joy. 
He  would  lean  forward,  swaying  his  head,  and 
shouting  "  Yip ! "  as  the  bow  hurried.  D'ri 
was  a  hard-working  man,  but  the  feel  of  the 
fiddle  warmed  and  limbered  him  from  toe  to 
finger.  He  was  over-modest,  making  light  of 
his  skill  if  he  ever  spoke  of  it,  and  had  no  ear 
for  a  compliment.  While  our  elders  were  danc 
ing,  I  and  others  of  my  age  were  playing  games 
in  the  kitchen  —  kissing-games  with  a  rush  and 
tumble  in  them,  puss-in-the-corner,  hunt-the- 
squirrel,  and  the  like.  Even  then  I  thought  I 
was  in  love  with  pretty  Rose  Merriman.  She 
would  never  let  me  kiss  her,  even  though  I  had 
caught  her  and  had  the  right.  This  roundelay, 


D'RI  AND   I 


sung  while  one  was  in  the  centre  of  a  circling 
group,  ready  to  grab  at  the  last  word,  brings 
back  to  me  the  sweet  faces,  the  bright  eyes,  the 
merry  laughter  of  that  night  and  others  like  it : 

/*  •&•  

*~&~ 

Oh,        hap  -  py    is       th'  mil-ler         who 


lives     by    him-self  1  As    th' wheel  goes  round,  he 


gath-ers        in        'is  wealth,    One     hand     on    the 


hop -per  and  the   oth-er     on    the  bag;    As    the 

-^       /r\ 


wheel  goes    round,    he     cries     out, "  Grab !"  Oh, 


ain't  you     a    lit  -  tie  bit    a-shamed  o'  this.     Oh, 


D'RI  AND   I  39 

M         U 

ain't  you    a     lit  -  tie      bit      a-sham'd  o'   this,  Oh, 


ain't  you    a     lit  -  tie    bit    a-sham'd  o'   this — To 
ritard. 


stay     all       night    for        one  sweet  kiss  ?  Oh,  etc. 

My  mother  gave  me  all  the  schooling  I  had 
that  winter.  A  year  later  they  built  a  school- 
house,  not  quite  a  mile  away,  where  I  found 
more  fun  than  learning.  After  two  years  I 
shouldered  my  axe  and  went  to  the  river-land 
with  the  choppers  every  winter  morning. 

My  father  was  stronger  than  any  of  them 
except  D'ri,  who  could  drive  his  axe  to  the  bit 
every  blow,  day  after  day.  He  had  the  strength 
of  a  giant,  and  no  man  I  knew  tried  ever  to  cope 
with  him.  By  the  middle  of  May  we  began  roll 
ing  in  for  the  raft.  As  soon  as  they  were  float 
ing,  the  logs  were  withed  together  and  moored 
in  sections.  The  bay  became  presently  a  qualc- 
ing,  redolent  plain  of  timber. 


D'RI  AND   I 


40 


When  we  started  the  raft,  early  in  June,  that 
summer  of  1810,  and  worked  it  into  the  broad 
river  with  sweeps  and  poles,  I  was  aboard  with 
D'ri  and  six  other  men,  bound  for  the  big  city 
of  which  I  had  heard  so  much.  I  was  to  visit 
the  relatives  of  my  mother  and  spend  a  year  in 
the  College  de  St.  Pierre.  We  had  a  little  frame 
house  on  a  big  platform,  back  of  the  middle  sec 
tion  of  the  raft,  with  bunks  in  it,  where  we  ate 
and  slept  and  told  stories.  Lying  on  the  plat 
form,  there  was  a  large  flat  stone  that  held  our 
fires  for  both  cooking  and  comfort.  D'ri  called 
me  in  the  dusk  of  the  early  morning,  the  first 
night  out,  and  said  we  were  near  the  Sault.  I 
got  up,  rubbed  my  eyes,  and  felt  a  mighty  thrill 
as  I  heard  the  roar  of  the  great  rapids  and  the 
creaking  withes,  and  felt  the  lift  of  the  speed 
ing  water.  D'ri  said  they  had  broken  the  raft 
into  three  parts,  ours  being  hindmost.  The 
roaring  grew  louder,  until  my  shout  was  as  a 
whisper  in  a  hurricane.  The  logs  began  to 
heave  and  fall,  and  waves  came  rushing 
through  them.  Sheets  of  spray  shot  skyward, 
coming  down  like  a  shower.  We  were  shaken 
as  by  an  earthquake  in  the  rough  water.  Then 


D'RI  AND   I  41 

the  roar  fell  back  of  us,  and  the  raft  grew 
steady. 

"Gin  us  a  tough  twist,"  said  D'ri,  shouting 
down  at  me  —  "kind  uv  a  twist  o'  the  bit  'n'  a 
kick  'n  the  side." 

It  was  coming  daylight  as  we  sailed  into  still 
water,  and  then  D'ri  put  his  hands  to  his  mouth 
and  hailed  loudly,  getting  an  answer  out  of  the 
gloom  ahead. 

"  Gol-dum  ef  it  hain't  the  power  uv  a  thou- 
san'  painters ! "  D'ri  continued,  laughing  as 
he  spoke.  "Never  see  nothin'  jump  'n'  kick 
'n'  spit  like  thet  air,  'less  it  hed  fur  on  —  never 
'n  all  my  born  days." 

D'ri's  sober  face  showed  dimly  now  in  the 
'dawn.  His  hands  were  on  his  hips ;  his  faded 
felt  hat  was  tipped  sideways.  His  boots  and 
trousers  were  quarrelling  over  that  disputed 
territory  between  his  knees  and  ankles.  His 
boots  had  checked  the  invasion. 

"Smooth  water  now,"  said  he,  thoughtfully. 
"  Seems  terrible  still.  Hain't  a  breath  uv  air 
stirrin'.  Jerushy  Jane  Pepper!  Wha'  does 
thet  mean  ? " 

He   stepped  aside   quickly  as  some   bits   of 


D'RI  AND   I 


42 


bark  and  a  small  bough  of  hemlock  fell  at  our 
feet.  Then  a  shower  of  pine  needles  came 
slowly  down,  scattering  over  us  and  hitting 
the  timber  with  a  faint  hiss.  Before  we  could 
look  up,  a  dry  stick  as  long  as  a  log  fell  rattling 
on  the  platform. 

"  Never  see  no  sech  doin's  afore,"  said  D'ri, 
looking  upward.  "  Things  don't  seem  t'  me  t' 
be  actin'  eggzac'ly  nat'ral —  nut  jest  es  I  'd  like 
t'  see  'em." 

As  the  light  came  clearer,  we  saw  clouds 
heaped  black  and  blue  over  the  tree-tops  in 
the  southwest  We  stood  a  moment  looking. 
The  clouds  were  heaping  higher,  pulsing  with 
light,  roaring  with  thunder.  What  seemed  to 
be  a  flock  of  pigeons  rose  suddenly  above  the 
far  forest,  and  then  fell  as  if  they  had  all  been 
shot.  A  gust  of  wind  coasted  down  the  still 
ether,  fluttering  like  a  rag  and  shaking  out  a 
few  drops  of  rain. 

"  Look  there  !  "  I  shouted,  pointing  aloft. 

"  Hark  !  "  said  D'ri,  sharply,  raising  his  hand 
of  three  fingers. 

We  could  hear  a  far  sound  like  that  of  a 
great  wagon  rumbling  on  a  stony  road. 


D'RI  AND   I 


43 


"  The  Almighty  's  whippin'  his  bosses,"  said 
D'ri.  "  Looks  es  ef  he  wus  plungin'  'em  through 
the  woods  'way  yender.  Look  a*  thet  air  sky." 

The  cloud-masses  were  looming  rapidly. 
They  had  a  glow  like  that  of  copper. 

"  Tryin'  t'  put  a  ruf  on  the  world,"  my  com 
panion  shouted.  "  Swingin'  ther  hammers  hard 
on  the  rivets." 

A  little  peak  of  green  vapor  showed  above  the 
sky-line.  It  loomed  high  as  we  looked.  It  grew 
into  a  lofty  column,  reeling  far  above  the  forest. 
Below  it  we  could  see  a  mighty  heaving  in  the 
tree-tops.  Something  like  an  immense  bird  was 
hurtling  and  pirouetting  in  the  air  above  them. 
The  tower  of  green  looked  now  like  a  great 
flaring  bucket  hooped  with  fire  and  overflowing 
with  darkness.  Our  ears  were  full  of  a  mighty 
voice  out  of  the  heavens.  A  wind  came  roar 
ing  down  some  tideway  of  the  air  like  water  in 
a  flume.  It  seemed  to  tap  the  sky.  Before  I 
could  gather  my  thoughts  we  were  in  a  torrent 
of  rushing  air,  and  the  raft  had  begun  to  heave 
and  toss.  I  felt  D'ri  take  my  hand  in  his.  I 
could  just  see  his  face,  for  the  morning  had 
turned  dark  suddenly.  His  lips  were  moving, 


D'RI  AND    I  44 

but  I  could  hear  nothing  he  said.  Then  he  lay 
flat,  pulling  me  down.  Above  and  around  were 
all  the  noises  that  ever  came  to  the  ear  of  man 
—  the  beating  of  drums,  the  bellowing  of  cattle, 
the  crash  of  falling  trees,  the  shriek  of  women, 
the  rattle  of  machinery,  the  roar  of  waters,  the 
crack  of  rifles,  the  blowing  of  trumpets,  the 
braying  of  asses,  and  sounds  the  like  of  which 
I  have  never  heard  and  pray  God  I  may  not 
hear  again,  one  and  then  another  dominating 
the  mighty  chorus.  Behind  us,  in  the  gloom, 
I  could  see,  or  thought  I  could  see,  the  reel 
ing  mass  of  green  ploughing  the  water,  like 
a  ship  with  chains  of  gold  flashing  over  bul 
warks  of  fire.  In  a  moment  something  hap 
pened  of  which  I  have  never  had  any 
definite  notion.  I  felt  the  strong  arm  of  D'ri 
clasping  me  tightly.  I  heard  the  thump  and 
roll  and  rattle  of  the  logs  heaping  above  us ;  I 
felt  the  water  washing  over  me  ;  but  I  could  see 
nothing.  I  knew  the  raft  had  doubled ;  it 
would  fall  and  grind  our  bones :  but  I  made 
no  effort  to  save  myself.  And  thinking  how 
helpless  I  felt  is  the  last  I  remember  of  the 
great  windfall  of  June  3,  1810,  the  path  of 


D'RI  AND    I  45 

which  may  be  seen  now,  fifty  years  after  that 
memorable  day,  and  I  suppose  it  will  be  visible 
long  after  my  bones  have  crumbled.  I  thought 
I  had  been  sleeping  when  I  came  to ;  at  least,  I 
had  dreamed.  I  was  in  some  place  where  it 
was  dark  and  still.  I  could  hear  nothing  but 
the  drip  of  water ;  I  could  feel  the  arm  of  D'ri 
about  me,  and  I  called  to  him,  and  then  I  felt 
him  stir. 

"  Thet  you,  Ray  ?  "  said  he,  lifting  his  head. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered.     "  Where  are  we  ?  " 

"Judas  Priest!  I  ain'  no  idee.  Jes'  woke  up. 
Been  a-layin'  here  tryin'  t'  think.  Ye  hurt  ?  " 

"  Guess  not,"  said  I. 

"  Ain't  ye  got  no  pains  or  aches  nowhere  'n 
yer  body  ? " 

"  Head  aches  a  little,"  said  I. 

He  rose  to  his  elbow,  and  made  a  light  with 
his  flint  and  tinder,  and  looked  at  me. 

"  Got  a  goose-egg  on  yer  for'ard,"  said  he, 
and  then  I  saw  there  was  blood  on  his  face. 

"  Ef  it  hed  n't  been  fer  the  withes  they  'd  'a' 
ground  us  t'  powder." 

We  were  lying  alongside  the  little  house,  and 
the  logs  were  leaning  to  it  above  us. 


D'RI  AND   I  46 

"  Jerushy  Jane  Pepper  !  "  D'ri  exclaimed,  ris 
ing  to  his  knees.  "  'S  whut  I  call  a  twister." 

He  began  to  whittle  a  piece  of  the  splintered 
platform.  Then  he  lit  a  shaving. 

"They 's  ground  here,"  said  he,  as  he  began 
to  kindle  a  fire,  "  ground  a-plenty  right  under 
us." 

The  firelight  gave  us  a  good  look  at  our  cave 
under  the  logs.  It  was  about  ten  feet  long  and 
probably  half  as  high.  The  logs  had  crashed 
through  the  side  of  the  house  in  one  or  two 
places,  and  its  roof  was  a  wreck. 

"  Hungry  ?  "  said  D'ri,  as  he  broke  a  piece  of 
board  on  his  knee. 

"Yes,"  I  answered. 

"  So  'm  I,"  said  he,  "  hungrier  'n  a  she-wolf. 
They  's  some  bread  'n'  ven'son  there  'n  the 
house ;  we  better  try  t'  git  'em." 

An  opening  under  the  logs  let  me  around  the 
house  corner  to  its  door.  I  was  able  to  work 
my  way  through  the  latter,  although  it  was 
choked  with  heavy  timbers.  Inside  I  could 
hear  the  wash  of  the  river,  and  through  its 
shattered  window  on  the  farther  wall  I  could 
see  between  the  heaped  logs  a  glow  of  sunlit 


D'RI  AND   I  47 

water.  I  handed  our  axe  through  a  break  in  the 
wall,  and  then  D'ri  cut  away  some  of  the  base 
boards  and  joined  me.  We  had  our  meal  cook 
ing  in  a  few  minutes  —  our  dinner,  really,  for 
D'ri  said  it  was  near  noon.  Having  eaten,  we 
crawled  out  of  the  window,  and  then  D'ri  began 
to  pry  the  logs  apart. 

"Ain't  much  'fraid  o'  their  tumblin'  on  us," 
said  he.  "They  're  withed  so  they  '11  stick 
together." 

We  got  to  another  cave  under  the  logs,  at  the 
water's  edge,  after  an  hour  of  crawling  and  pry 
ing.  A  side  of  the  raft  was  in  the  water. 

"Got  t'  dive,"  said  D'ri,  "an'  swim  fer  day 
light." 

A  long  swim  it  was,  but  we  came  up  in  clear 
water,  badly  out  of  breath.  We  swam  around 
the  timber,  scrambling  over  a  dead  cow,  and 
up-shore.  The  ruined  raft  was  torn  and  tum 
bled  into  a  very  mountain  of  logs  at  the  edge  of 
the  water.  The  sun  was  shining  clear,  and  the 
air  was  still.  Limbs  of  trees,  bits  of  torn  cloth, 
a  broken  hay-rake,  fragments  of  wool,  a  wagon- 
wheel,  and  two  dead  sheep  were  scattered  along 
the  shore.  Where  we  had  seen  the  whirlwind 


D'RI  AND  I  48 

coming,  the  sky  was  clear,  and  beneath  it  was  a 
great  gap  in  the  woods,  with  ragged  walls  of 
evergreen.  Here  and  there  in  the  gap  a  stub 
was  standing,  trunk  and  limbs  naked. 

"  Jerushy  Jane  Pepper!  "  D'ri  exclaimed,  with 
a  pause  after  each  word.  "  It 's  cut  a  swath 
wider  'n  this  river.  Don't  b'lieve  a  mouse  could 
V  lived  where  the  timber  's  down  over  there." 

Our  sweepers  and  the  other  sections  of  the 
raft  were  nowhere  in  sight. 


Ill 


49 


E  left  the  logs,  and  walked  to 
Cornwall,  and  took  a  sloop 
down  the  river.  It  was  an 
American  boat,  bound  for 
Quebec  with  pipe-staves.  It 
had  put  in  at  Cornwall  when  the  storm  began. 
The  captain  said  that  the  other  sections  of 
our  raft  had  passed  safely.  In  the  dusk  of 
the  early  evening  a  British  schooner  brought 
us  to. 

"  Wonder  what  that  means  ? "  said  the  skip 
per,  straining  his  eyes  in  the  dusk. 

A  small  boat,  with  three  officers,  came  along 
side.  They  climbed  aboard,  one  of  them  carry 
ing  a  lantern.  They  were  armed  with  swords  and 
pistols.  We  sat  in  silence  around  the  cockpit. 
They  scanned  each  of  us  carefully  in  the  light 
of  the  lantern.  It  struck  me  as  odd  they  should 
look  so  closely  at  our  hands. 


D'RI  AND   1  50 

"  Wha'  d'  ye  want  ? "  the  skipper  demanded. 

"This  man,"  said  one  of  them,  pointing  to 
D'ri.  "  He's  a  British  sailor.  We  arrest  him  — " 

He  got  no  farther.  D'ri's  hand  had  gone 
out  like  the  paw  of  a  painter  and  sent  him 
across  the  cockpit.  Before  I  knew  what  was 
up,  I  saw  the  lank  body  of  D'ri  leaping  back 
ward  into  the  river.  I  heard  a  splash  and  a 
stroke  of  his  long  arms,  and  then  all  was  still. 
I  knew  he  was  swimming  under  water  to  get 
away.  The  officers  made  for  their  boat.  My 
blood  was  up,  and  I  sprang  at  the  last  of  them, 
giving  him  a  hard  shove  as  he  was  climbing 
over,  so  that  he  fell  on  the  boat,  upsetting  it. 
They  had  business  enough  then  for  a  little, 
and  began  hailing  for  help.  I  knew  I  had 
done  a  foolish  thing,  and  ran  forward,  climb 
ing  out  upon  the  bowsprit,  and  off  with 
my  coat  and  vest,  and  dived  into  the  dark 
water.  I  swam  under  as  long  as  I  could  hold 
my  breath,  and  then  came  up  quietly,  turning 
on  my  back  in  the  quick  current,  and  floating 
so  my  face  only  was  above  water.  It  had 
grown  dark,  and  I  could  see  nothing  but  the 
glimmer  of  the  stars  above  me.  My  boots 


D'RI  AND  I  51 

were  heavy  and  dragged  hard.  I  was  going 
fast  with  the  swift  water,  for  at  first  I  had 
heard  a  great  hubbub  on  the  schooner ;  but 
now  its  voices  had  grown  faint.  Other  sounds 
were  filling  my  ear. 

After  dark  it  is  weird  business  to  be  swimming 
in  strange  water  —  the  throne  of  mystery,  of  a 
thousand  terrors.  It  is  as  if  one's  grave,  full 
of  the  blackness  of  the  undiscovered  country, 
were  pursuing  him  and  ever  yawning  beneath 
his  body.  And  that  big  river  is  the  very 
tiger  of  waters,  now  stealing  on  pussy-footed, 
now  rushing  with  cat-like  swiftness,  hissing 
and  striking  with  currents  that  have  in  them 
mighty  sinews.  I  was  now  companion  of  those 
cold-mouthed  monsters  of  the  river  bottom,  many 
of  which  I  had  seen.  What  if  one  should  lay 
hold  on  me  and  drag  me  under  ?  Then  I  thought 
of  rapids  that  might  smother  me  with  their  spray 
or  dash  me  to  hidden  rocks.  Often  I  lifted 
my  ears,  marvelling  at  the  many  voices  of  the 
river.  Sometimes  I  thought  I  heard  a  roaring 
like  that  of  the  Sault,  but  it  was  only  a  ripple 
growing  into  fleecy  waves  that  rocked  me  as  in 
a  cradle.  The  many  sounds  were  above,  below, 


D'RI  AND    I  52 

and  beside  me,  some  weird  and  hollow  and  un 
earthly.  I  could  hear  rocks  rolling  over  in  their 
sleep  on  the  bottom,  and,  when  the  water  was 
still,  a  sound  like  the  cropping  of  lily-pads 
away  off  on  the  river-margin.  The  bellowing 
of  a  cow  terrified  me  as  it  boomed  over  the 
sounding  sheet  of  water.  The  river  rang  like 
a  mighty  drum  when  a  peal  of  far  thunder 
beat  upon  it.  I  put  out  my  hands  to  take  a 
stroke  or  two  as  I  lay  on  my  back,  and  felt 
something  floating  under  water.  The  feel  of 
it  filled  me  with  horror.  I  swam  faster ;  it  was 
at  my  heels.  I  knew  full  well  what  my  hand 
had  touched  —  a  human  head  floating  face 
downward :  I  could  feel  the  hair  in  my  fingers. 
I  turned  and  swam  hard,  but  still  it  followed  me. 
My  knees  hit  upon  it,  and  then  my  feet.  Again 
and  again  I  could  feel  it  as  I  kicked.  Its  hand 
seemed  to  be  clutching  my  trousers.  I  thought 
I  should  never  get  clear  of  the  ghastly  thing.  I 
remember  wondering  if  it  were  the  body  of  poor 
D'ri.  I  turned  aside  swimming  another  way, 
and  then  I  felt  it  no  more. 

In  the  dead  of  the  night  I  heard  suddenly  a 
kind  of  throbbing  in  the  breast  of  the  river.     It 


D'RI  AND   I  53 

grew  to  a  noisy  heart-beat  as  I  listened.  Again 
and  again  I  heard  it,  striking,  plashing,  like  a 
footfall,  and  coming  nearer.  Somehow  I  got 
the  notion  of  a  giant,  like  those  of  whom  my 
mother  had  told  me  long  ago,  striding  in  the 
deep  river.  I  could  hear  his  boots  dripping 
as  he  lifted  them.  I  got  an  odd  fear  that  he 
would  step  on  me.  Then  I  heard  music  and 
lifted  my  ears  above  water.  It  was  a  voice 
singing  in  the  distance,  —  it  must  have  been  a 
mile  off,  —  and  what  I  had  taken  for  a  near 
footfall  shrank  away.  I  knew  now  it  was  the 
beat  of  oars  in  some  far  bay. 

A  long  time  after  I  had  ceased  to  hear  it, 
something  touched  my  shoulder  and  put  me 
in  a  panic.  Turning  over,  I  got  a  big  mouth 
ful  of  water.  Then  I  saw  it  was  a  gang  of 
logs  passing  me,  and  quickly  caught  one. 
Now,  to  me  the  top  side  of  a  log  was  as  easy 
and  familiar  as  a  rocking-chair.  In  a  moment 
I  was  sitting  comfortably  on  my  captive.  A 
bit  of  rubbish,  like  that  the  wind  had  sown, 
trailed  after  the  gang  of  logs.  I  felt  it  over, 
finding  a  straw  hat  and  a  piece  of  board  some 
three  feet  long,  with  which  latter  I  paddled 
vigorously. 


D'RI  AND   I  54 

It  must  have  been  long  past  midnight  when  I 
came  to  an  island  looming  in  the  dark  ahead.  I 
sculled  for  it,  stranding  on  a  rocky  beach,  and 
alighted,  hauling  the  log  ashore.  The  moon 
came  out  as  I  stood  wringing  my  trouser  legs. 
I  saw  the  island  rose  high  and  narrow  and  was 
thickly  wooded.  I  remember  saying  something 
to  myself,  when  I  heard  a  quick  stir  in  the  bushes 
near  me.  Looking  up,  I  saw  a  tall  figure.  Then 
came  a  familiar  voice  :  — 

"  Thet  you,  Ray  ?     Judas  Priest !  " 

I  was  filled  with  joy  at  the  sight  of  D'ri,  and 
put  my  arms  about  him  and  lifted  him  off  his 
feet,  and,  faith !  I  know  my  eyes  were  wet  as 
my  trousers.  Then,  as  we  sat  down,  I  told  him 
how  I  had  taken  to  the  river. 

"Lucky  ye  done  it!"  said  he.  "Jerushy 
Jane  !  It  is  terrible  lucky  !  They  'd  'a'  tuk  ye 
sartin.  Somebody  see  thet  jack  on  the  back  o' 
my  hand,  there  'n  Cornwall,  'n'  put  'em  efter 
me.  But  I  was  bound  'n'  detarmined  they  'd 
never  tek  me  alive,  never !  Ef  I  ever  dew  any 
fightin',  't  ain't  a-goin'  t'  be  fer  England,  nut  by 
a  side  o'  sole-leather.  I  med  up  my  mind  I  'd 
begin  the  war  right  then  an'  there." 


D'RI  AND   I 


55 


"That  fellow  never  knew  what  hit  him,"  I 
remarked.  "  He  did  n't  get  up  for  half  a  min 
ute." 

"Must  'a'  swatted  'im  powerful,"  said  D'ri, 
as  he  felt  his  knuckles.  "  Gol-dum  ther  pic- 
turs  !  Go  V  try  t'  yank  a  man  right  off  a  boat 
like  thet  air  when  they  ham'  no  right  t'  tech 
'im.  Ef  I  'd  'a'  hed  OF  Beeswax,  some  on  'em 
'd  'a'  got  hurt." 

"  How  did  you  get  here  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Swum,"  said  he.  "  Could  n't  go  nowheres 
else.  Current  fetched  me  here.  Splits  et  the 
head  o'  the  island  —  boun'  ter  land  ye  right 
here.  Got  t'  be  movin'.  They  '11  be  efter  us, 
mebbe  —  's  the  fust  place  they  'd  look." 

A  few  logs  were  stranded  on  the  stony  point 
of  the  island.  We  withed  three  others  to  mine, 
setting  sail  with  two  bits  of  driftwood  for 
paddles.  We  pulled  for  the  south  shore,  but 
the  current  carried  us  rapidly  down-river.  In 
a  bay  some  two  miles  below  we  found,  to  our 
joy,  the  two  sections  of  the  big  raft  undergoing 
repairs.  At  daybreak  D'ri  put  off  in  the  woods 
for  home. 

"  Don't  like  the  idee  o'  goin'  int'  the  British 


D'RI  AND   I  56 

navy,"  said  he.  "  'D  ruther  chop  wood  'n' 
ketch  bears  over  'n  St.  Lawrence  County. 
Good-by,  Ray  !  Tek  care  o'  yerself." 

Those  were  the  last  words  he  said  to  me,  and 
soon  I  was  on  the  raft  again,  floating  toward 
the  great  city  of  my  dreams.  I  had  a  mighty 
fear  the  schooner  would  overhaul  us,  but  saw 
nothing  more  of  her.  I  got  n^w  clothes  in 
Montreal,  presenting  myself  in  good  repair. 
They  gave  me  hearty  welcome,  those  good 
friends  of  my  mother,  and  I  spent  a  full  year 
in  the  college,  although,  to  be  frank,  I  was  near 
being  sent  home  more  than  once  for  fighting 
and  other  deviltry. 

It  was  midsummer  when  I  came  back  again. 
I  travelled  up  the  river  road,  past  our  island 
refuge  of  that  dark  night ;  past  the  sweeping, 
low- voiced  currents  that  bore  me  up ;  past  the 
scene  of  our  wreck  in  the  whirlwind ;  past  the 
great  gap  in  the  woods,  to  stand  open  God 
knows  how  long.  I  was  glad  to  turn  my  face 
to  the  south  shore,  for  in  Canada  there  was  now 
a  cold  welcome  for  most  Yankees,  and  my  fists 
were  sore  with  resenting  the  bitter  taunt.  I 
crossed  in  a  boat  from  Iroquois,  and  D'ri  had 


D'RI  AND   I 


57 


been  waiting  for  me  half  a  day  at  the  landing. 
I  was  never  so  glad  to  see  a  man  —  never  but 
once.  Walking  home  I  saw  corn  growing 
where  the  forest  had  been  —  acres  of  it. 

"  D'ri,"  said  I,  in  amazement,  "how  did  you 
ever  do  it  ?  There  's  ten  years'  work  here." 

"God  helped  us,"  said  he,  soberly.  "The 
trees  went  over  'n  the  windfall,  —  slammed  'em 
down  luk  tenpins  f er  a  mild  er  more,  —  an'  we 
jes'  burnt  up  the  rubbish." 


IV 


PRIL  was  near  its  end.  The 
hills  were  turning  green,  albeit 
we  could  see,  here  and  there  on 
the  high  ledge  above  us,  little 
patches  of  snow  —  the  fading 
footprints  of  winter.  Day  and  night  we  could 
hear  the  wings  of  the  wild  fowl  roaring  in  the 
upper  air  as  they  flew  northward.  Summer 
was  coming,  —  the  summer  of  1812,  —  and  the 
war  with  the  British.  The  President  had  called 
for  a  hundred  thousand  volunteers  to  go  into 
training  for  battle.  He  had  also  proclaimed 
there  would  be  no  more  whipping  in  the 
ranks.  Then  my  father  told  me  that,  since  I 
could  have  no  peace  at  home,  I  should  be  off 
to  the  war  and  done  with  it. 

We  were  working  near  the  road  that  day 
Thurst  Miles  came  galloping  out  of  the  woods, 
waving  his  cap  at  us.  We  ran  to  meet  him  — 


D'RI  AND   I  59 

my  father  and  I  and  the  children.  He  pulled 
up  a  moment,  his  horse  lathered  to  the  ears. 

"Injuns!"  he  shouted.  "Git  out  o'  here 
quick  'n'  mek  fer  the  Corners !  Ye  '11  be  all 
massacreed  ef  ye  don't." 

Then  he  whacked  the  wet  flank  of  his  horse 
with  a  worn  beech  bough,  and  off  he  went. 

We  ran  to  the  house  in  a  great  panic.  I 
shall  never  forget  the  crying  of  the  children. 
Indians  had  long  been  the  favorite  bugbear 
of  the  border  country.  Many  a  winter's  even 
ing  we  had  sat  in  the  firelight,  fear-faced,  as 
my  father  told  of  the  slaughter  in  Cherry 
Valley ;  and,  with  the  certainty  of  war,  we  all 
looked  for  the  red  hordes  of  Canada  to  come, 
in  paint  and  feathers. 

"Ray,"  my  father  called  to  me,  as  he  ran, 
"ketch  the  cow  quick  an'  bring  'er  'long." 

I  caught  her  by  the  horn  and  brought  her  to 
the  door  quickly.  Mother  was  throwing  some 
clothes  into  a  big  bundle.  Father  met  me  with  a 
feather  bed  in  his  arms.  He  threw  it  over  the 
back  of  the  cow  and  bound  it  on  with  a  bed- 
cord.  That  done,  he  gave  me  the  leading-rope 
to  tie  about  her  horns.  The  hoofs  of  the  fly- 


D'RI  AND    I  60 

ing  horse  were  hardly  out  of  hearing  when  we 
were  all  in  the  road.  My  mother  carried  the 
baby,  and  my  father  his  sword  and  rifle  and 
one  of  the  little  ones.  I  took  the  three  older 
children  and  set  them  on  the  feather  bed  that 
was  bound  to  the  back  of  the  cow.  They  clung 
to  the  bed-cord,  their  hair  flying,  as  the  old  cow 
ran  to  keep  up  with  us,  for  at  first  we  were  all 
running.  In  a  moment  we  could  hear  the 
voices  of  people  coming  behind.  One  of  the 
women  was  weeping  loudly  as  she  ran.  At 
the  first  cross-road  we  saw  Arv  Law  and  his 
family  coming,  in  as  great  a  hurry  as  we.  Arv 
had  a  great  pike-pole  in  his  hand.  Its  upper 
end  rose  twenty  feet  above  his  head. 

"  What  ye  goin'  t'  dew  with  thet  ?  "  my  father 
asked  him. 

"  Goin'  t'  run  it  through  the  fust  Injun  I  see," 
said  he.  "  I  've  broke  the  lock  o'  my  gun." 

There  was  a  crowd  at  Jerusalem  Four  Cor 
ners  when  we  got  there.  Every  moment  some 
family  was  arriving  in  a  panic  —  the  men,  like 
my  father,  with  guns  and  babies  and  baskets. 
The  women,  with  the  young,  took  refuge  at 
once  in  the  tavern,  while  the  men  surrounded 


D'RI  AND   I  61 

it.  Inside  the  line  were  youths,  some  oddly 
armed  with  slings  or  clubs  or  cross-guns.  I 
had  only  the  sword  my  father  gave  me  and  a 
mighty  longing  to  use  it.  Arv  Law  rested  an 
end  of  his  pike-pole  and  stood  looking  anxiously 
for  "  red  devils  "  among  the  stumps  of  the  far 
ther  clearing.  An  old  flint-lock,  on  the  shoulder 
of  a  man  beside  him,  had  a  barrel  half  as  long 
as  the  pole.  David  Church  was  equipped  with 
axe  and  gun,  that  stood  at  rest  on  either  side  of 
him. 

Evening  came,  and  no  sign  of  Indians. 
While  it  was  growing  dusk  I  borrowed  a  pail 
of  the  innkeeper  and  milked  the  cow,  and 
brought  the  pail,  heaped  with  froth,  to  my 
mother,  who  passed  brimming  cups  of  milk 
among  the  children.  As  night  fell,  we  boys, 
more  daring  than  our  fathers,  crept  to  the  edge 
of  the  timber  and  set  the  big  brush-heaps  afire, 
and  scurried  back  with  the  fear  of  redmen  at 
our  heels.  The  men  were  now  sitting  in  easy 
attitudes  and  had  begun  to  talk. 

"  Don't  b'lieve  there  's  no  Injuns  comin'," 
said  Bill  Foster.  "  Ef  they  wus  they  fd  come." 

"'Cordin'  t'  my  observation,"  said  Arv  Law, 


D'RI  AND    I  62 

looking  up  at  the  sky,  "Injuns  mos'  gen'ally 
comes  when  they  git  ready." 

"  An'  't  ain't  when  yer  ready  t'  hev  'em, 
nuther,"  said  Lon  Butterfield. 

"  B'lieve  they  come  up  'n'  peeked  out  o'  the 
bushes  'n'  see  Arv  with  thet  air  pike-pole,  'n' 
med  up  their  minds  they  hed  n't  better  run  up 
ag'in'  it,"  said  Bill  Foster.  "  Scairt  'em  —  thet 's 
whut's  th'  matter." 

"  Man  'et  meks  light  o'  this  pole  oughter  hev 
t'  carry  it,"  said  Arv,  as  he  sat  impassively  rest 
ing  it  upon  his  knee. 

"  One  thin'  's  sure,"  said  Foster ;  "  ef  Arv 
sh'u'd  cuff  an  Injun  with  thet  air  he'll  squ'sh 
'im." 

"  Squ'sh  'im !  "  said  Arv,  with  a  look  of  dis 
gust.  "  'T  ain't  med  t'  squ'sh  with.  I  cal'late 
t'  p'int  it  at  'em  'n'  jab." 

And  so,  as  the  evening  wore  away  and  sleep 
hushed  the  timid,  a  better  feeling  came  over  us. 
I  sat  by  Rose  Merriman  on  the  steps,  and  we 
had  no  thought  of  Indians.  I  was  looking  into 
her  big  hazel  eyes,  shining  in  the  firelight,  and 
thinking  how  beautiful  she  was.  And  she,  too, 
was  looking  into  my  eyes,  while  we  whispered 


D'RI  AND   I  63 

together,  and  the  sly  minx  read  my  thoughts,  I 
know,  by  the  look  of  her. 

Great  flames  were  now  leaping  high  as  the 
timber-tops  at  the  edge  of  the  clearing.  A  dead 
spruce  caught  fire  as  we  were  looking.  The 
flames  threw  over  it  a  lacy,  shimmering,  crac 
kling  net  of  gold.  Then  suddenly  it  burst  into  a 
red,  leaping  tower.  A  few  moments,  and  the 
cavern  of  the  woods,  along  the  timber  side,  was 
choked  with  fire.  The  little  hamlet  had  become 
a  spring  of  light  in  the  darkness.  We  could  see 
the  stumps  and  houses  far  afield,  as  if  it  had 
been  noonday.  Suddenly  we  all  jumped  to  our 
feet.  A  wild  yell  came  echoing  through  the 
woods. 

"  There  they  be ! "  said  Asher  Eastman,  as 
he  cocked  his  gun.  "  I  tol'  ye  so." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  had  told  us  nothing  of 
the  kind.  He  was  the  one  man  who  had  said 
nothing. 

Arv  Law  stood  erect,  his  pike-pole  poised  in 
both  hands,  and  we  were  all  ready  for  action. 
We  could  hear  the  rattle  of  many  hoofs  on  the 
road.  As  soon  as  the  column  showed  in  the 
firelight,  Bill  Foster  up  with  his  musket  and 


D'RI  AND   I  64 

pulled  the  trigger.  I  could  hear  the  shot  scat 
ter  on  stump  and  stone.  Every  man  had  his 
gun  to  his  eye. 

"Wait  till  they  come  nearer,"  said  Asher 
Eastman. 

The  Indians  had  halted.  Far  behind  them 
we  could  hear  the  wild  hallooing  of  many  voices. 
In  a  moment  we  could  see  those  on  horseback 
go  galloping  off  in  the  direction  whence  they 
had  come.  Back  in  the  house  a  number  of  the 
women  were  praying.  My  mother  came  out, 
her  face  whiter  than  I  had  ever  seen  it  before, 
and  walked  to  my  father,  and  kissed  him  with 
out  ever  saying  a  word.  Then  she  went  back 
into  the  house. 

"  Scairt  ? "  I  inquired,  turning  to  Rose,  who 
now  stood  beside  me. 

"  I  should  think  I  was,"  she  whispered.  "  I  'm 
all  of  a  tremble." 

"  If  anything  happens,  I  'd  like  something  to 
remember  you  by." 

"  What  ?  "  she  whispered. 

I  looked  at  her  beautiful  red  lips.  She  had 
never  let  me  kiss  them. 

"  A  kiss,  if  nothing  more,"  I  answered. 


D'RI  AND    I  65 

She  gave  me  a  kiss  then  that  told  me  some 
thing  of  what  was  in  her  heart,  and  went  away 
into  the  house. 

"  Coin'  t'  surround  us,"  said  Arv  Law  — 
"  thet  's  whut  's  th'  matter." 

"  Mus'  be  ready  t'  rassle  'em  any  minute," 
said  Asher  Eastman,  as  he  sidled  over  to  a  little 
group. 

A  young  man  came  out  of  the  house  and 
took  his  place  in  line  with  a  big  squirt-gun  and 
a  pail  of  steaming-hot  water. 

The  night  wore  on ;  our  fires  burned  low. 
As  the  approaching  day  began  to  light  the 
clearing,  we  heard  a  sound  that  brought  us  all 
to  our  feet.  A  burst  of  bugle  notes  went  chas 
ing  over  the  timber-land  to  the  tune  of  "  Yan 
kee  Doodle."  We  looked  at  one  another  in  sur 
prise.  Then  there  came  a  thunder  of  hoofs  in  the 
distance,  the  ragged  outline  of  a  troop  of  cavalry. 

"  Soldiers  !  "  said  Arv,  as  he  raised  his  pike. 

"The  British?"  somebody  asked. 

"  Dunno,"  said  he.  "  Ain'  no  Injuns,  I  don't 
b'lieve." 

A  troop  of  cavalry  was  approaching  at  a  gal 
lop.  They  pulled  up  a  few  rods  away  and 


D'RI  AND   I  66 

jammed  into  a  big  crescent  of  rearing,  tram 
pling  horses.  We  could  see  they  were  Ameri 
can  soldiers.  We  all  lowered  our  guns. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  one  of  them  shouted. 

"  Citizens,"  my  father  answered. 

"  Why  are  you  armed  ?  " 

"To  fight  Injuns." 

A  chorus  of  laughter  came  from  the  cavalry. 

They  loosed  rein,  letting  their  horses  advance. 

"  My  dear  man,"  said  one  of  them,  a  big 
shako  on  his  head,  "there  ain't  an  Indian 
'tween  here  an'  St.  Regis.  We  thought  you 
were  British,  an'  it 's  lucky  we  did  n't  charge  in 
the  dark ;  we  'd  have  cut  you  all  to  pieces 
before  we  knew  who  you  were." 

A  body  of  infantry  was  marching  down  the 
pike.  They  were  the  volunteers  of  Captain 
Darius  Hawkins,  on  their  way  to  Ogdensburg, 
with  an  escort  of  cavalry  from  Sackett's  Har 
bor.  The  scare  was  over.  Women  came  out, 
laughing  and  chattering.  In  a  few  moments 
they  were  all  in  the  road,  going  home  —  men, 
women,  and  children. 

I  enlisted  with  Captain  Hawkins,  and  hurried 
to  the  house,  and  packed  my  things,  and  bade 
them  all  good-by. 


FOLLOWED  the  camp  and 
took  my  place  in  the  ranks  at 
Ogdensburg.  We  went  immedi 
ately  into  barracks — a  structure 
long  and  low  and  weather- 
stained,  overlooking  the  St.  Lawrence.  There 
was  a  fine  level  field  in  front  of  it,  and  a  flag 
waving  at  the  top  of  a  high  staff.  The  men 
cheered  lustily  that  afternoon  as  they  passed 
it,  where  stood  General  Jacob  Brown,  his  cocked 
hat  in  his  hand  —  a  splendid  figure  of  a  man. 
My  delight  in  the  life  of  a  soldier  began  that 
hour,  and  has  never  left  me. 

There  was  a  lot  of  horse-play  that  night,  in 
which  some  of  the  green  boys  were  roughly 
handled.  They  told  me,  I  remember,  that  all 
new  recruits  had  to  fight  a  duel ;  but  when  they 
gave  me  the  choice  of  weapons  I  was  well  con 
tent.  I  had  the  sure  eye  of  my  father,  and  the 


D'RI  AND   I  68 

last  time  I  had  fenced  with  him,  there  at  home, 
he  said  my  arm  was  stronger  and  quicker  than 
his  had  ever  been.  Indeed,  I  was  no  sooner 
tall  enough  to  swing  a  sword  than  he  began 
teaching  me  how  to  use  it.  In  the  wood  back 
of  the  barracks  that  night,  they  learned  I  was 
not  a  man  to  be  fooled  with.  The  tall  sergeant 
who  stood  before  me  saw  his  sword  go  flying  in 
the  gloom  the  second  thrust  he  made  at  me,  and 
ran  for  his  life,  amid  roars  of  laughter.  I  had 
no  lack  of  friends  after  that  day. 

It  was  a  year  of  surprises  in  the  Northern 
army,  and  D'ri  was  the  greatest  of  all.  That 
long,  wiry,  sober-faced  Yankee  conquered  the 
smartness  of  the  new  camp  in  one  decisive  and 
immortal  victory.  At  first  they  were  disposed 
to  poke  fun  at  him. 

"  Looks  a  little  tired,"  said  the  sergeant  of 
the  guard. 

"  Needs  rest  —  that's  what's  matter  o'  him/' 
said  the  captain. 

"  Orter  be  turned  out  t'  grass  a  leetle  while," 
the  adjutant  suggested. 

The  compliments  he  failed  to  hear  soon  came 
to  him  indirectly,  and  he  had  much  to  put  up 


D'RI  AND   I  69 

with.  He  kept  his  temper  and  smoked  thought 
fully,  and  took  it  all  in  good  part.  The  night 
after  he  came  they  put  him  on  guard  duty  —  a 
greenhorn,  with  no  knowledge  of  any  orders  but 
gee  and  haw.  They  told  him  he  should  allow 
nobody  to  pass  him  while  on  duty,  but  omitted 
to  mention  the  countersign.  They  instructed 
him  in  the  serious  nature  of  his  task,  adding 
that  his  failure  to  comply  with  orders  would 
incur  the  penalty  of  death.  D'ri  looked  very 
sober  as  he  listened.  No  man  ever  felt  a 
keener  sense  of  responsibility.  They  intended, 
I  think,  to  cross  the  lines  and  take  his  gun 
away  and  have  fun  with  him,  but  the  counter 
sign  would  have  interfered  with  their  plans. 

D'ri  went  to  his  post  a  little  after  sundown. 
The  guard  was  posted.  The  sergeant,  with  his 
party  of  six,  started  back  to  the  guard-house, 
but  they  never  got  there.  They  went  as  far  as 
D'ri.  He  stood  with  his  gun  raised. 

"Come  another  step,"  said  he,  "an'  I'll  let 
the  moonlight  through  ye." 

They  knew  he  meant  it,  and  they  stood  still. 

"  Come  for'ard  —  one  et  a  time,"  said  D'ri. 
"  Drop  yer  guns  'n'  set  down.  Ye  look  tired."" 


D'RI  AND   I  70 

They  did  as  he  commanded,  for  they  could 
see  he  meant  business,  and  they  knew  he  had 
the  right  to  kill. 

Another  man  came  along  shortly. 

"  Halt !     Who  comes  there  ?  "  D'ri  demanded. 

"  Friend  with  the  countersign,"  he  replied. 

"  Can't  fool  me,"  said  D'ri.  "  Come  up  here 
'n'  set  down  V  mek  yerself  t'  hum.  Drop  yer 
gun  fust.  Drop  it,  er  I  '11  drop  you." 

He  dropped  his  gun  promptly  and  accepted 
the  invitation  to  sit  down.  This  last  man  had 
some  arguments  to  offer,  but  D'ri  stood  sternly 
and  made  no  reply. 

At  eleven  o'clock  Captain  Hawkins  sent  out 
inquiries  for  the  sergeant  of  the  guard  and  his 
relief.  He  could  find  nobody  who  had  seen 
them  since  dark.  A  corporal  was  also  missing. 
The  captain  sent  a  man  to  look  for  them.  He 
got  as  far  as  D'ri  and  sat  down.  They  waited 
for  him  in  vain.  The  captain  stood  looking 
into  the  darkness  and  wondering  about  his  men. 
He  conferred  with  Adjutant  Church.  Then  he 
set  out  with  two  men  to  go  the  rounds.  They 
got  as  far  as  D'ri. 

"  Halt !     Who  comes  there  ?  "  he  demanded. 


D'RI  AND   I 


71 


"  Grand  rounds,"  was  the  answer  of  the  cap 
tain. 

"  Lay  down  yer  arms,"  said  D'ri,  "  an'  come 
up  here  'n'  set  down." 

"  Have  n't  time,"  said  the  captain,  failing  at 
first  to  grasp  the  situation. 

"  You  tek  time,  er  I  '11  put  a  hole  'n  yer 
jacket,"  said  D'ri. 

One  of  the  privates  turned  quickly  and  ran. 
D'ri  sent  a  shot  after  him,  that  only  grazed  a  leg, 
and  he  kept  on.  Then  D'ri  gave  all  attention 
to  his  new  prisoners.  They  could  see  no  amuse 
ment  in  dodging  bullets ;  they  threw  their  arms 
on  the  side-hill  and  sat  down  with  the  others. 

The  captain  swore  as  he  submitted. 

"Don't  rile  yerself,"  said  D'ri;  "you  need 
rest." 

"  No,  I  don't,  nuther,"  said  the  captain. 

"  Ye  '11  hev  t'  hev  it,  anyway,"  said  D'ri. 

"This  beats  h — !"  the  captain  answered, 
with  a  laugh. 

A  feeling  of  alarm  began  to  spread.  The 
adjutant  was  standing  in  a  group  of  men  at 
headquarters  soon  after  midnight.  They  were 
ears  under  in  the  mystery.  The  escaped  soldier 


D'RI  AND    I  72 

came  running  toward  them  out  of  the  dark.  He 
was  breathing  heavily ;  his  leg  was  bleeding 
and  sore. 

"Wall,  what  is  it  ?  "  the  adjutant  demanded. 

"D'ri!  "  the  man  gasped,  and  dropped  down 
exhausted. 

"  D'ri  ?  "  the  officer  inquired. 

"D'ri!"  the  man  repeated.  "It's  thet  air 
man  they  call  D'ri.  He  's  roped  in  everybody 
thet  come  his  way.  They  're  all  settin'  on  the 
hill  up  there  beside  him.  Won't  let  a  man 
move  when  he  gits  him." 

The  adjutant  snickered  as  he  spat  an  oath. 
He  was  made  of  iron,  that  man  Church. 

"  Post  a  guard  around  him,"  said  he,  turn 
ing  to  an  officer.  "  The  dem  fool  'd  tek  the 
hull  garrison  ef  we  did  n't.  I  '11  go  'n'  try  t' 
pull  him  off  his  perch." 

"  He  '11  lay  ye  up,"  said  the  returned  private, 
baring  his  bloody  leg.  "  Eff  ye  try  t'  fool  with 
him  ye '11  limp.  See  what  he  done  t'  me." 

The  adjutant  swore  again. 

"  Go  t'  the  hospital,"  he  commanded. 

Then  he  strode  away,  but  he  did  not  return 
that  night. 


D'RI  AND   I  73 

The  moon  was  shining  as  the  adjutant  came 
in  sight  and  hailed  the  group  of  prisoners. 

"  What  ye  settin'  there  fer  ?  "  he  shouted. 

"  You  '11  know  'n  a  minute,"  said  one  of  them. 

"  Halt !    Who  comes  there  ? "    D'ri  demanded. 

"Friend  with  —  " 

"  Don't  ye  purten'  t'  be  my  friend/'  D'ri 
answered.  "  'T  won't  work.  Come  up  here 
'n'  set  down." 

"  Stop  foolin',  man,"  said  the  adjutant. 

"I  ain't  a-foolin'." 

"  He  ain't  a-foolin' ;  he  means  business,"  said 
one  of  the  prisoners. 

"  Don't  ye  tamper  with  me.  I  '11  teach  you 
—  "  the  adjutant  threatened. 

"  Ain't  a-goin'  t'  tamper  with  ye  a  minute," 
said  D'ri.  "  If  ye  don't  set  down  here  quick, 
I  '11  put  a  hole  in  ye." 

"  Lunatic  !  wha'  d'  ye  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  t'  turn  ye  out  t'  grass  a  leetle 
while,"  D'ri  answered  soberly.  "  Ye  look 
tired." 

The  officer  made  at  him,  but  in  a  flash  D'ri 
had  knocked  him  down  with  his  musket.  The 
adjutant  rose  and,  with  an  oath,  joined  the  others. 


D'RI  AND  I  74 

"  Dunno  but  he'll  tek  the  hull  garrison  'fore 
sunrise,"  he  muttered.  "Let  'em  come — might 
es  well  hev  comp'ny." 

A  little  before  daylight  a  man  sick  in  the 
hospital  explained  the  situation.  He  had  given 
D'ri  his  orders.  They  brought  him  out  on  a 
stretcher.  The  orders  were  rescinded,  the 
prisoners  released. 

Captain  Hawkins,  hot  to  his  toes  with  an 
ger,  took  D'ri  to  headquarters.  General  Brown 
laughed  heartily  when  he  heard  the  facts,  and 
told  D'ri  he  was  made  of  the  right  stuff. 

"  These  greenhorns  are  not  nice  to  play 
with,"  he  said.  "They're  like  some  guns  — 
loaded  when  you  don't  expect  it.  We  've  had 
enough  skylarking." 

And  when  the  sick  man  came  out  of  hospital 
he  went  to  the  guard-house. 

After  we  had  shown  our  mettle  the  general 
always  had  a  good  word  for  D'ri  and  me,  and 
he  put  us  to  the  front  in  every  difficult  enter 
prise. 


VI  75 

E  had  been  four  months  in 
Ogdensburg,  waiting  vainly  for 
some  provocation  to  fight.  Our 
own  drilling  was  the  only  sign 
of  war  we  could  see  on  either 
side  of  the  river.  At  first  many  moved  out 
of  the  village,  but  the  mill  was  kept  running, 
and  after  a  little  they  began  to  come  back. 
The  farms  on  each  side  of  the  river  looked 
as  peaceful  as  they  had  ever  looked.  The 
command  had  grown  rapidly.  Thurst  Miles 
of  my  own  neighborhood  had  come  to  enlist 
shortly  after  D'ri  and  I  enlisted,  and  was  now 
in  my  company. 

In  September,  General  Brown  was  ordered 
to  the  Western  frontier,  and  Captain  Forsyth 
came  to  command  us.  Early  in  the  morning 
of  October  2,  a  man  came  galloping  up  the 
shore  with  a  warning,  saying  that  the  river 


D'RI  AND   I  76 

was  black  with  boats  a  little  way  down.  Some 
of  us  climbed  to  the  barracks  roof,  from  which 
we  could  see  and  count  them.  There  were 
forty,  with  two  gunboats.  Cannonading  began 
before  the  town  was  fairly  awake.  First  a  big 
ball  went  over  the  house-tops,  hitting  a  cupola 
on  a  church  roof  and  sending  bell  and  timbers 
with  a  crash  into  somebody's  dooryard.  Then 
all  over  the  village  hens  began  to  cackle  and 
children  to  wail.  People  came  running  out  of 
doors  half  dressed.  A  woman,  gathering  chips 
in  her  dooryard,  dropped  them,  lifted  her  dress 
above  her  head,  and  ran  for  the  house.  Unable 
to  see  her  way,  she  went  around  in  a  wide  circle 
for  a  minute  or  two,  while  the  soldiers  were 
laughing.  Another  ball  hit  a  big  water-tank 
on  top  of  the  lead-works.  It  hurled  broken 
staves  and  a  big  slop  of  water  upon  the  house 
tops,  and  rolled  a  great  iron  hoop  over  roofs 
into  the  street  below,  where  it  rolled  on,  chasing 
a  group  of  men,  who  ran  for  their  lives  before 
it.  The  attack  was  an  odd  sort  of  comedy  all 
through,  for  nobody  was  hurt,  and  all  were 
frightened  save  those  of  us  who  were  amused. 
Our  cannon  gave  quick  reply,  and  soon  the 


D'RI  A  rt  D  I  77 

British  stopped  firing  and  drew  near.  We 
knew  that  they  would  try  to  force  a  landing, 
and  were  ready  for  them.  We  drove  them 
back,  when  they  put  off,  and  that  was  the  end 
of  it. 

Next  came  the  fight  on  the  ice  in  February 
—  a  thing  not  highly  creditable  to  us,  albeit  we 
were  then  but  a  handful  and  they  were  many. 
But  D'ri  and  I  had  no  cause  for  shame  of  our 
part  in  it.  We  wallowed  to  our  waists  in  the 
snow,  and  it  was  red  enough  in  front  of  us. 
But  the  others  gave  way  there  on  the  edge  of 
the  river,  and  we  had  to  follow.  We  knew 
when  it  was  time  to  run;  we  were  never  in 
the  rear  rank  even  then.  We  made  off  with 
the  others,  although  a  sabre's  point  had  raked 
me  in  the  temple,  and  the  blood  had  frozen 
on  me,  and  I  was  a  sight  to  scare  a  trooper. 
Everybody  ran  that  day,  and  the  British  took 
the  village,  holding  it  only  twenty-four  hours. 
For  our  part  in  it  D'ri  got  the  rank  of  corporal 
and  I  was  raised  from  lieutenant  to  captain. 
We  made  our  way  to  Sackett's  Harbor,  where 
I  went  into  hospital  for  a  month.  ** 

Then  came  a  galling  time  of   idleness.      In 


D'RI  AND   I  78 

June  we  went  with  General  Brown  —  D'ri  and 
I  and  Thurst  Miles  and  Seth  Alexander  and 
half  a  dozen  others  —  down  the  river  to  the 
scene  of  our  first  fighting  at  Ogdensburg,  camp 
ing  well  back  in  the  woods.  It  was  the  evening 
of  the  27th  of  June  that  the  general  sent  for 
me.  He  was  at  the  mansion  of  Mr.  Parish, 
where  he  had  been  dining.  He  was  sitting  in 
his  dress-suit.  His  dark  side-whiskers  and  hair 
were  brushed  carefully  forward.  His  handsome 
face  turned  toward  me  with  a  kindly  look. 

"  Bell,"  said  he,  "  I  wish  to  send  you  on  very 
important  business.  You  have  all  the  qualities 
of  a  good  scout.  You  know  the  woods.  You 
have  courage  and  skill  and  tact.  I  wish  you  to 
start  immediately,  go  along  the  river  to  Morris- 
town,  then  cut  over  into  the  Black  River  coun 
try  and  deliver  this  letter  to  the  Comte  de 
Chaumont,  at  the  Chateau  Le  Ray,  in  Lerays- 
ville.  If  you  see  any  signs  of  the  enemy,  send 
a  report  to  me  at  once.  I  shall  be  here  three 
days.  Take  Alexander,  Olin,  and  Miles  with 
you ;  they  are  all  good  men.  When  your  letter 
is  delivered,  report  at  the  Harbor  as  soon  as 
possible." 


D'RI  AND   I 


79 


I  was  on  the  road  with  my  party  in  half  an 
hour.  We  were  all  good  horsemen.  D'ri  knew 
the  shortest  way  out  of  the  woods  in  any  part 
of  the  north  country.  Thurst  had  travelled  the 
forest  from  Albany  to  Sackett's  Harbor,  and 
was  the  best  hunter  that  ever  trod  a  trail  in  my 
time.  The  night  was  dark,  but  we  rode  at  a 
gallop  until  we  had  left  the  town  far  behind  us. 
We  were  at  Morristown  before  midnight,  pound 
ing  on  the  door  of  the  Red  Tavern.  The  land 
lord  stuck  his  head  out  of  an  upper  window, 
peering  down  at  us  by  the  light  of  a  candle. 

"Everything  quiet?"  I  asked. 

"  Everything  quiet,"  said  he.  "  Crossed  the 
river  yesterday.  Folks  go  back  'n'  forth  'bout 
the  same  as  ever.  Wife 's  in  Elizabethtown 
now,  visiting." 

We  asked  about  the  west  roads  and  went  on 
our  way.  Long  before  daylight  we  were  climb 
ing  the  steep  road  at  Rossie  to  the  inn  of  the 
Travellers'  Rest  —  a  tavern  famous  in  its  time, 
that  stood  half  up  the  hill,  with  a  store,  a 
smithy,  and  a  few  houses  grouped  about  it. 
We  came  up  at  a  silent  walk  on  a  road 
cushioned  with  sawdust.  D'ri  rapped  on  the 


D'RI  AND    I  80 

door  until  I  thought  he  had  roused  the  whole 
village.  At  last  a  man  came  to  the  upper  win 
dow.  He,  too,  inspected  us  with  a  candle. 
Then  he  opened  the  door  and  gave  us  a  hearty 
welcome.  We  put  up  our  horses  for  a  bite,  and 
came  into  the  bar. 

"  Anything  new  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  They  say  the  British  are  camped  this  side 
of  the  river,  north  of  us,"  said  he,  "  with  a  big 
tribe  of  Injuns.  Some  of  their  cavalry  came 
within  three  miles  of  us  to-day.  Everybody 
scairt  t'  death." 

He  began  to  set  out  a  row  of  glasses. 

"  What  '11  ye  hev  ? "  he  inquired. 

"  Guess  I  '11  tip  a  little  blue  ruin  int'  me,"  said 
D'ri,  with  a  shiver ;  "  's  a  col'  night." 

Seth  and  I  called  for  the  same. 

"  An'  you  ? "  said  the  landlord,  turning  to 
Thurst. 

"  Wai,"  said  the  latter,  as  he  stroked  his  thin 
beard,  "when  I  tuk  the  pledge  I  swore  et  I 
hoped  t'  drop  dead  'fore  I  see  myself  tek 
another  drink.  I  'm  jest  goin'  t'  shet  my  eyes 
'n'  hold  out  my  glass.  I  don'  care  what  ye  gi' 
me  s'  long  es  it's  somethin'  powerful." 


D'RI  AND   I  81 

We  ate  crackers  and  cheese  while  the  land 
lord  was  telling  of  the  west  roads  and  the 
probable  location  of  the  British.  He  stopped 
suddenly,  peered  over  my  shoulder,  and  blew 
out  the  candle.  We  could  hear  a  horse  neigh 
ing  in  the  yard. 

"  Some  one  et  the  window,"  he  whispered. 
Then  he  ran  to  the  door  and  drew  the  bolt. 
"Ain'  much  idee  who  'tis,"  he  added,  peering 
out  of  the  window.  "  By  gosh  !  more  'n  a  dozen 
folks  out  here,  soldiers  tew,  most  uv  'em  on 
horseback.  Come  quick." 

We  followed  him  upstairs,  in  the  dark,  as 
they  began  to  pound  the  door.  From  the  yard 
a  light  flashed  up.  They  were  evidently  build 
ing  a  fire  so  that  they  would  have  better  shoot 
ing  if  we  came  out. 

"  May  set  the  house  afire,"  said  the  landlord. 

He  quickly  unwound  a  big  hose  that  ran  up 
to  a  tank  in  the  peak  above  us. 

"  Plenty  o'  water  ?  "  D'ri  whispered. 

"  Rivers  uv  it,"  said  the  landlord.  "  Tank 's 
connected  with  the  reservoir  o'  the  lead-works 
on  the  hill  up  there.  Big  wooden  pipe  comes 
in  the  gable-end." 


D'RI  AND   I  82 

" Turn  'er  on,"  said  D'ri,  quickly,  "an'  let 
me  hev  thet  air  hose." 

The  landlord  ran  up  a  ladder.  D'ri  stuck 
the  hose  out  of  the  window.  The  stream  shot 
away  with  a  loud  hiss.  I  stood  by  and  saw  the 
jet  of  water  leap  forth  as  big  as  a  pikestaff.  A 
man  went  off  his  horse,  sprawling  as  if  he  had 
been  hit  with  a  club.  The  jet  leaped  quickly 
from  one  to  another,  roaring  on  man  and  beast. 
There  was  a  mighty  scurry.  Horses  went  head 
long  down  the  hill,  some  dragging  their  riders. 
In  the  silence  of  the  night,  bedlam  had  broken 
loose.  The  shouting  men,  the  plunging  horses, 
the  stream  of  water  roaring  on  rock  and  road, 
woke  the  village.  Men  came  running  from 
behind  the  house  to  see  what  had  happened, 
then  rushed  after  their  horses.  Some  fell  curs 
ing  as  the  water  hit  them.  The  landlord  put 
his  mouth  to  my  ear. 

"  Mek  fer  yer  bosses,"  he  hissed. 

We  were  below-stairs  and  out  of  the  door  in 
a  jiffy.  Two  men  fled  before  us  at  the  stable, 
scrambled  over  the  fence,  and  went  tumbling 
downhill.  We  bridled  our  horses  with  all 
speed,  leaped  upon  them,  and  went  rushing 


D'RI  AND   I  83 

down  the  steep  road,  our  swords  in  hand,  like 
an  avalanche.  They  tried  to  stop  us  at  the  foot 
of  the  hill,  but  fell  away  as  we  came  near.  I 
could  hear  the  snap  of  their  triggers  in  passing. 
Only  one  pistol-shot  came  after  us,  and  that 
went  high. 

"  Guess  their  ammunition  's  a  leetle  wet,"  said 
D'ri,  with  a  shout  that  turned  into  laughter  as 
we  left  the  British  behind  us. 

A  party  of  four  or  five  mounted  and  gave 
chase ;  but  our  powder  was  a  bit  drier  than 
theirs,  and  for  a  time  we  raked  the  road  with 
our  bullets.  What  befell  them  I  know  not. 
I  only  know  that  they  held  up  and  fell  out  of 
hearing. 

Crossing  a  small  river  at  daylight,  we  took 
the  bed  of  it,  making  our  way  slowly  for  half 
a  mile  or  so  into  the  woods.  There  we  built 
a  fire,  and  gave  the  horses  half  the  feed  in  our 
saddle-bags,  and  ate  our  mess  on  a  flat  rock. 

"  Never  hed  no  sech  joemightyful  time  es 
thet  afore,"  said  D'ri,  as  he  sat  down,  laughing, 
and  shook  his  head.  "  Jerushy  Jane  !  Did  n't 
we  come  down  thet  air  hill !  Luk  slidin'  on*  a 
greased  pole." 


D'RI  AND    I  84 

"  Comin'  so  luk  the  devil  they  did  n't  dast  git 
'n  er  way,"  said  Thurst. 

"We  wus  all  rippin'  th'  air  'ith  them  air 
joemightyful  big  sabres,  tew,"  D'ri  went  on. 
"  Hed  a  purty  middlin'  sharp  edge  on  us. 
Stuck  out  luk  a  haystack  right  'n'  left." 

He  began  bringing  wood  as  he  sang  the 
chorus  of  his  favorite  ballad  :  — 

Li  toorul  I  oorul  I  oorul  I  ay,  etc. 

Thurst  knew  a  trail  that  crossed  the  river 
near  by  and  met  the  Caraway  Pike  a  few  miles 
beyond.  Having  eaten,  I  wrote  a  despatch  to 
be  taken  back  by  Thurst  as  soon  as  we  reached 
the  pike.  Past  ten  o'clock  we  turned  into  a 
rough  road,  where  the  three  of  us  went  one 
way  and  Thurst  another. 

I  rode  slowly,  for  the  horses  were  nearly 
fagged.  I  gave  them  an  hour's  rest  when  we 
put  up  for  dinner.  Then  we  pushed  on,  com 
ing  in  sight  of  the  Chateau  Le  Ray  at  sun 
down.  A  splendid  place  it  was,  the  castle  of 
gray  stone  fronting  a  fair  stretch  of  wooded 
lawn,  cut  by  a  brook  that  went  splashing  over 
rocks  near  by,  and  sent  its  velvet  voice  through 
wood  and  field.  A  road  of  fine  gravel  led 


D'RI  AND   I  85 

through  groves  of  beech  and  oak  and  pine  to 
a  grassy  terrace  under  the  castle  walls.  A  ser 
vant  in  livery  came  to  meet  us  at  the  door,  and 
went  to  call  his  master.  Presently  a  tall,  hand 
some  man,  with  black  eyes  and  iron-gray  hair 
and  mustache,  came  down  a  path,  clapping  his 
hands. 

"  Welcome,  gentlemen !  It  is  the  Captain 
Bell  ? "  said  he,  with  a  marked  accent,  as  he 
came  to  me,  his  hand  extended.  "  You  come 
from  Monsieur  the  General  Brown,  do  you 
not  ? " 

"  I  do,"  said  I,  handing  him  my  message. 

He  broke  the  seal  and  read  it  carefully. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  —  ver'  glad  to  see 
you ! "  said  he,  laying  his  hands  upon  my 
shoulders  and  giving  me  a  little  shake. 

Two  servants  went  away  with  D'ri  and  Seth 
and  the  horses. 

"  Come,  captain,"  said  my  host,  as  he  led  the 
way.  "You  are  in  good  time  for  dinner." 

We  entered  a  great  triangular  hall,  lighted 
by  wide  windows  above  the  door,  and  candela 
bra  of  shining  brass  that  hung  from  its  high 
ceiling.  There  were  sliding  doors  of  polished 


D'RI  AND   I  86 

wood  on  each  side  of  it.  A  great  stairway 
filled  the  point  of  the  triangle.  I  was  shown 
to  my  room,  which  was  as  big  as  a  ball-room, 
it  seemed  to  me,  and  grandly  furnished :  no 
castle  of  my  dreams  had  been  quite  so  fine. 
The  valet  of  the  count  looked  after  me,  with 
offers  of  new  linen  and  more  things  than  I 
could  see  use  for.  He  could  not  speak  Eng 
lish,  I  remember,  and  I  addressed  him  in  the 
good  French  my  mother  had  taught  me. 

The  kind  of  life  I  saw  in  this  grand  home 
was  not  wholly  new  to  me,  for  both  my  mother 
and  father  had  known  good  living  in  their 
youth,  and  I  had  heard  much  of  it.  I  should 
have  been  glad  of  a  new  uniform ;  but  after  I 
had  had  my  bath  and  put  on  the  new  shirt  and 
collar  the  valet  had  brought  me,  I  stood  before 
the  long  pier-glass  and  saw  no  poor  figure  of  a 
man. 

The  great  dining-hall  of  the  count  was  lighted 
with  many  candles  when  we  came  in  to  dinner. 
It  had  a  big  fireplace,  where  logs  were  blazing, 
for  the  night  had  turned  cool,  and  a  long  table 
with  a  big  epergne  of  wrought  silver,  filled  with 
roses,  in  its  centre.  A  great  silken  rug  lay  un- 


D'RI  AND   I  87 

der  the  table,  on  a  polished  floor,  and  the  walls 
were  hung  with  tapestry.  I  sat  beside  the  count, 
and  opposite  me  was  the  daughter  of  the  Sieur 
Louis  Frangois  de  Saint-Michel,  king's  forester 
under  Louis  XVI.  Therese,  the  handsome 
daughter  of  the  count,  sat  facing  him  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  table,  and  beside  her  was 
the  young  Marquis  de  Gonvello.  M.  Pidgeon, 
the  celebrated  French  astronomer,  Moss  Kent, 
brother  of  the  since  famous  chancellor,  the 
Sieur  Michel,  and  the  Baroness  de  Ferre,  with 
her  two  wards,  the  Misses  Louise  and  Louison 
de  Lambert,  were  also  at  dinner.  These  young 
ladies  were  the  most  remarkable  of  the  com 
pany  ;  their  beauty  was  so  brilliant,  so  fascinat 
ing,  it  kindled  a  great  fire  in  me  the  moment  I 
saw  it.  They  said  little,  but  seemed  to  have 
much  interest  in  all  the  talk  of  the  table.  I 
looked  at  them  more  than  was  polite,  I  am  sure, 
but  they  looked  at  me  quite  as  often.  They  had 
big,  beautiful  brown  eyes,  and  dark  hair  fas 
tened  high  with  jewelled  pins,  and  profiles  like 
those  of  the  fair  ladies  of  Sir  Peter  Lely,  so 
finely  were  they  cut.  One  had  a  form  a  bit 
fuller  and  stronger  than  the  other's,  but  they 


D'RI  AND    I  88 

were  both  as  tall  and  trim  as  a  young  beech, 
with  lips  cherry-red  and  cheeks  where  one 
could  see  faintly  the  glow  of  their  young  blood. 
Their  gowns  were  cut  low,  showing  the  grace 
ful  lines  of  neck  and  shoulder  and  full  bosom. 
I  had  seen  pretty  girls,  many  of  them,  but  few 
high-bred,  beautiful  young  women.  The  mo 
ment  I  saw  these  two  some  new  and  mighty 
force  came  into  me.  There  were  wine  and  wit 
a-plenty  at  the  count's  table,  and  other  things 
that  were  also  new  to  me,  and  for  which  I 
retained  perhaps  too  great  a  fondness. 

The  count  asked  me  to  tell  of  our  journey, 
and  I  told  the  story  with  all  the  spirit  I  could 
put  into  my  words.  I  am  happy  to  say  it  did 
seem  to  hit  the  mark,  for  I  was  no  sooner  done 
with  our  adventure  than  the  ladies  began  to 
clap  their  hands,  and  the  Misses  de  Lambert 
had  much  delight  in  their  faces  when  the  baron 
ess  retold  my  story  in  French. 

Dinner  over,  the  count  invited  me  to  the 
smoking-room,  where,  in  a  corner  by  ourselves, 
I  had  some  talk  with  him.  He  told  me  of  his 
father  —  that  he  had  been  a  friend  of  Franklin, 
that  he  had  given  a  ship  and  a  cargo  of  gun- 


D'RI  AND   I  89 

powder  to  our  navy  in  '76.  Like  others  I  had 
met  under  his  roof,  the  count  had  seen  the  com 
ing  of  the  Reign  of  Terror  in  France,  and  had 
fled  with  his  great  fortune.  He  had  invested 
much  of  it  there  in  the  wild  country.  He  loved 
America,  and  had  given  freely  to  equip  the 
army  for  war.  He  was,  therefore,  a  man  of 
much  influence  in  the  campaign  of  the  North, 
and  no  doubt  those  in  authority  there  were  in 
structed,  while  the  war  was  on,  to  take  special 
care  of  his  property. 

"And  will  you  please  tell  me,"  I  said  at 
length,  "who  are  the  Misses  de  Lambert?" 

"  Daughters  of  a  friend  in  Paris,"  said  the 
count.  "  He  is  a  great  physician.  He  wishes 
not  for  them  to  marry  until  they  are  twenty-one. 
Mon  Dieu !  it  was  a  matter  of  some  difficulty. 
They  were  beautiful." 

"  Very  beautiful !"  I  echoed. 

"  They  were  admired,"  he  went  on.  "  The 
young  men  they  began  to  make  trouble.  My 
friend  he  send  them  here,  with  the  baroness,  to 
study — to  finish  their  education.  It  is  healthy, 
it  is  quiet,  and  —  well,  there  are  no  young  gen 
tlemen.  They  go  to  bed  early ;  they  are  up  at 


D'RI  AND   1  go 

daylight ;  they  have  the  horse ;  they  have  boats ; 
they  amuse  themselves  ver'  much.  But  they 
are  impatient;  they  long  for  Paris  —  the  salon, 
the  theatre,  the  opera.  They  are  like  prisoners: 
they  cannot  make  themselves  to  be  contented. 
The  baroness  she  has  her  villa  on  a  lake  back 
in  the  woods,  and,  mon  ame !  it  is  beautiful  there 
—  so  still,  so  cool,  so  delightful !  At  present 
they  have  a  great  fear  of  the  British.  They  lie 
awake ;  they  listen ;  they  expect  to  be  carried 
off ;  they  hear  a  sound  in  the  night,  and,  mon 
Dieu  !  it  is  the  soldiers  coming." 

The  count  laughed,  lifting  his  shoulders 
with  a  gesture  of  both  hands.  Then  he  puffed 
thoughtfully  at  his  cigarette. 

"  Indeed,"  he  went  on  presently,  "  I  think  the 
invasion  is  not  far  away.  They  tell  me  the 
woods  in  the  north  are  alive  with  British  cav 
alry.  I  am  not  able  to  tell  how  many,  but, 
Dieu !  it  is  enough.  The  army  should  inform 
itself  immediately.  I  think  it  is  better  that  you 
penetrate  to  the  river  to-morrow,  if  you  are  not 
afraid,  to  see  what  is  between,  and  to  return  by 
the  woods.  I  shall  trouble  you  to  take  a  letter 
to  the  General  Brown.  It  will  be  ready  at  any 
hour." 


D'RI  AND   I  91 

"  At  six  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  At  six,  certainly,  if  you  desire  to  start  then," 
he  replied. 

He  rose  and  took  my  arm  affectionately  and 
conducted  me  to  the  big  drawing-room.  Two 
of  the  ladies  were  singing  as  one  played  the 
guitar.  I  looked  in  vain  for  the  Misses  de 
Lambert.  The  others  were  all  there,  but  they 
had  gone.  I  felt  a  singular  depression  at  their 
absence  and  went  to  my  room  shortly  to  get  my 
rest,  for  I  had  to  be  off  early  in  the  morning. 
Before  going  to  bed,  however,  I  sat  down  to 
think  and  do  some  writing.  But  I  could  not  for 
the  life  of  me  put  away  the  thought  of  the 
young  ladies.  They  looked  alike,  and  yet  I 
felt  sure  they  were  very  different.  Somehow 
I  could  not  recall  in  what  particular  they  dif 
fered.  I  sat  a  time  thinking  over  it.  Suddenly 
I  heard  low  voices,  those  of  women  speaking 
in  French;  I  could  not  tell  from  where  they 
came. 

"  I  do  wish  she  would  die,  the  hateful  thing  !  " 
said  one.  (It  must  be  understood  these  words 
are  more  violent  in  English  than  they  seem*  in 
French.) 


D'RI  AND   I  92 

**The  colonel  is  severe  to-night,"  said  an 
other. 

"  The  colonel  —  a  fine  baroness  indeed  — 
vieille  tyran  !  I  cannot  love  her.  Lord !  I  once 
tried  to  love  a  monkey  and  had  better  luck. 
The  colonel  keeps  all  the  men  to  herself. 
Whom  have  I  seen  for  a  year  ?  Dieu  !  women, 
grandpapas,  greasy  guides  !  Not  a  young  man 
since  we  left  Paris." 

"  My  dear  Louison !  "  said  the  other,  "  there 
are  many  things  better  than  men." 

"  Au  nom  de  Dieu  !  But  I  should  like  to 
know  what  they  are.  I  have  never  seen 
them." 

"  But  often  men  are  false  and  evil,"  said  the 
other,  in  a  sweet,  low  voice. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  said  the  first,  impatiently.  "  I 
had  rather  elope  with  a  one-legged  hostler  than 
always  live  in  these  woods." 

"  Louison  !  You  ought  to  cross  yourself  and 
repeat  a  Hail  Mary." 

"  Thanks!  I  have  tried  prayer.  It  is  n't  what 
I  need.  I  am  no  nun  like  you.  My  dear  sister, 
don't  you  ever  long  for  the  love  of  a  man  —  a 
big,  handsome,  hearty  fellow  who  could  take 


D'RI  AND  I  93 

you  up  in  his  arms  and  squeeze  the  life  out  of 
you  ? " 

"  Eh  bien,"  said  the  other,  with  a  sigh,  "  I 
suppose  it  is  very  nice.  I  do  not  dare  to  think 
of  it." 

"  Nice  !  It  is  heaven,  Louise !  And  to  see  a 
man  like  that  and  not  be  permitted  to  —  to  speak 
to  him  !  Think  of  it !  A  young  and  handsome 
man — the  first  I  have  seen  for  a  year!  Hon 
estly  I  could  poison  the  colonel." 

"  My  dear,  it  is  the  count  as  much  as  the 
colonel.  She  is  under  his  orders,  and  he  has 
an  eagle  eye." 

"  The  old  monkey !  He  enrages  me !  I 
could  rend  him  limb  from  limb  !  " 

I  could  not  help  hearing  what  they  said,  but 
I  did  not  think  it  quite  fair  to  share  their  con 
fidence  any  further,  so  I  went  to  one  of  the 
windows  and  closed  a  shutter  noisily.  The 
voices  must  have  come  from  a  little  balcony  just 
under  my  room. 

"  My  dear  sister,  you  are  very  terrible,"  said 
one  of  them,  and  then  the  shutter  came  to,  and 
I  heard  no  more. 

A  full  moon  lighted  the  darkness.     A  little 


D'RI  AND   I  94 

lake  gleamed  like  silver  between  the  tree-tops. 
Worn  out  with  hard  travel,  I  fell  into  bed 
shortly,  and  lay  a  long  time  thinking  of  those 
young  ladies,  of  the  past,  of  to-morrow  and  its 
perils,  and  of  the  farther  future.  A  new  life 
had  begun  for  me. 


VII 


95 


HE  sun  was  lifting  above  the 
tree-tops  when  the  count's  valet 
called  me  that  morning  at  the 
Chateau  Le  Ray.  Robins  were 
calling  under  my  windows,  and 
the  groves  rang  with  tournaments  of  happy 
song.  Of  that  dinner-party  only  the  count 
was  at  breakfast  with  me.  We  ate  hurriedly, 
and  when  we  had  risen  the  horses  were  at  the 
door.  As  to  my  own,  a  tall  chestnut  thorough 
bred  that  Mr.  Parish  had  brought  over  from 
England,  I  never  saw  him  in  finer  fettle.  I 
started  Seth  by  Caraway  Pike  for  Ogdensburg 
with  the  count's  message. 

Mine  host  laid  hold  of  my  elbow  and  gave  it 
a  good  shake  as  I  left  him,  with  D'ri,  taking  a 
trail  that  led  north  by  west  in  the  deep  woods. 
They  had  stuffed  our  saddle-bags  with  a  plenty 
for  man  and  horse. 


D'RI  AND   I  96 

I  could  not  be  done  thinking  of  the  young 
ladies.  It  put  my  heart  in  a  flutter  when  I  looked 
back  at  the  castle  from  the  wood's  edge  and 
saw  one  of  them  waving  her  handkerchief  in  a 
window.  I  lifted  my  hat,  and  put  my  spurs  to 
the  flank  with  such  a  pang  in  me  I  dared  not 
look  again.  Save  for  that  one  thing,  I  never 
felt  better.  The  trail  was  smooth,  and  we 
galloped  along  in  silence  for  a  mile  or  so. 
Then  it  narrowed  to  a  stony  path,  where  one 
had  enough  to  do  with  slow  going  to  take  care 
of  his  head,  there  were  so  many  boughs  in  the 
way. 

"  Jerushy  Jane !  "  exclaimed  D'ri,  as  he  slowed 
down.  "  Thet  air 's  a  gran'  place.  Never  hed 
my  karkiss  in  no  sech  bed  as  they  gin  me  las' 
night  —  softer  'n  wind,  an'  hed  springs  on 
like  them  new  wagins  ye  see  over  'n  Vermont. 
Jerushy!  Dreamed  I  was  flyin'." 

I  had  been  thinking  of  what  to  do  if  we  met 
the  enemy  and  were  hard  pressed.  We  dis 
cussed  it  freely,  and  made  up  our  minds  that 
if  there  came  any  great  peril  of  capture  we 
would  separate,  each  to  take  his  own  way  out 
of  the  difficulty. 


D'RI  AND  I  97 

We  halted  by  a  small  brook  at  midday, 
feeding  the  horses  and  ourselves  out  of  the 
saddle-bags. 

"Ain't  jest  eggzac'ly  used  t'  this  kind  uv  a 
sickle,"  said  D'ri,  as  he  felt  the  edge  of  his 
sabre,  "  but  I  '11  be  dummed  ef  it  don't  seem  es 
ef  I  'd  orter  be  ruther  dang'rous  with  thet  air  'n 
my  hand." 

He  knew  a  little  about  rough  fighting  with  a 
sabre.  He  had  seen  my  father  and  me  go  at 
each  other  hammer  and  tongs  there  in  our  door- 
yard  every  day  of  good  weather.  Stormy  days 
he  had  always  stood  by  in  the  kitchen,  roaring 
with  laughter,  as  the  good  steel  rang  and  the 
house  trembled.  He  had  been  slow  to  come  to 
it,  but  had  had  his  try  with  us,  and  had  learned 
to  take  an  attack  without  flinching.  I  went  at 
him  hard  for  a  final  lesson  that  day  in  the 
woods  —  a  great  folly,  I  was  soon  to  know. 
We  got  warm  and  made  more  noise  than  I  had 
any  thought  of.  My  horse  took  alarm  and 
pulled  away,  running  into  a  thicket.  I  turned 
to  catch  him. 

"Judas  Priest!"  said  D'ri. 

There,  within  ten  feet  of  us,  I  saw  what  made 


D'RI  AND   I  98 

me,  ever  after,  a  more  prudent  man.  It  was  an 
English  officer  leaning  on  his  sword,  a  tall  and 
handsome  fellow  of  some  forty  years,  in  shiny 
top-boots  and  scarlet  blouse  and  gauntlets  of 
brown  kid. 

"  You  are  quite  clever,"  said  he,  touching  his 
gray  mustache. 

I  made  no  answer,  but  stood  pulling  myself 
together. 

"  You  will  learn,"  he  added,  smiling,  with  a 
tone  of  encouragement.  "  Let  me  show  you  a 
trick." 

He  was  most  polite  in  his  manner,  like  a 
play-hero,  and  came  toward  me  as  he  spoke. 
Then  I  saw  four  other  Britishers  coming  out  to 
close  in  upon  us  from  behind  trees. 

He  came  at  me  quickly,  and  I  met  him.  He 
seemed  to  think  it  would  be  no  trick  to  unhand 
my  weapon.  Like  a  flash,  with  a  whip  of  his 
sabre,  he  tried  to  wrench  it  away.  D'ri  had 
begun  to  shoot,  dodging  between  trees,  and  a 
redcoat  had  tumbled  over.  I  bore  in  upon  my 
man,  but  he  came  back  at  me  with  surprising 
vigor.  On  my  word,  he  was  the  quickest 
swordsman  I  ever  had  the  honor  of  facing. 


D'RI  AND   I  99 

But  he  had  a  mean  way  of  saying  "Ha!"  as 
he  turned  my  point  He  soon  angered  me, 
whereupon  I  lost  a  bit  of  caution,  with  some 
blood,  for  he  was  at  me  like  a  flash,  and  grazed 
me  on  the  hip  before  I  could  get  my  head  again. 
It  was  no  parlor  play,  I  can  tell  you.  We  were 
fighting  for  life,  and  both  knew  it.  We  fought 
up  and  down  through  brakes  and  bushes  and 
over  stones  —  a  perilous  footing.  I  could  feel 
his  hand  weakening.  I  put  all  my  speed  to  the 
steel  then,  knowing  well  that,  barring  accident, 
I  should  win.  I  could  hear  somebody  coming 
up  behind  me. 

"  Keep  away  there,"  my  adversary  shouted, 
with  a  fairness  I  admire  when  I  think  of  it. 
"  I  can  handle  him.  Get  the  other  fellow." 

I  went  at  him  to  make  an  end  of  it. 

"I'll  make  you  squint,  you  young  cub,"  he 
hissed,  lunging  at  me. 

He  ripped  my  blouse  at  the  shoulder,  and, 
gods  of  war !  we  made  the  sparks  fly.  Then 
he  went  down,  wriggling ;  I  had  caught  him  in 
the  side,  poor  fellow  !  Like  a  flash  I  was  off  in 
a  thicket.  One  of  the  enemy  got  out  of  my 
way  and  sent  a  bullet  after  me.  I  could  feel  it 


D'RI  AND   I  ioo 

rip  and  sting  in  the  muscle  as  it  rubbed  my 
ribs.  I  kept  foot  and  made  for  my  horse.  He 
had  caught  his  reins,  and  I  was  on  him  and  off 
in  the  bush,  between  bullets  that  came  ripping 
the  leaves  about  me,  before  they  could  give 
chase. 

Drums  were  beating  the  call  to  arms  some 
where.  I  struck  the  trail  in  a  minute,  and, 
leaning  low  in  the  saddle,  went  bounding  over 
logs  and  rocks  and  down  a  steep  hillside  as  if 
the  devil  were  after  me.  I  looked  back,  and 
was  nearly  raked  off  by  a  bough.  I  could  hear 
horses  coming  in  the  trail  behind  with  quick 
and  heavy  jumps.  But  I  was  up  to  rough 
riding  and  had  little  fear  they  would  get  a  sight 
of  me.  However,  crossing  a  long  stretch  of 
burnt  timber,  they  must  have  seen  me.  I  heard 
a  crack  of  pistols  far  behind ;  a  whiz  of  bullets 
over  my  head.  I  shook  out  the  reins  and  let 
the  horse  go,  urging  with  cluck  and  spur,  never 
slacking  for  rock  or  hill  or  swale.  It  was  a 
wilder  ride  than  any  I  have  known  since  or 
shall  again,  I  can  promise  you,  for,  God  knows, 
I  have  been  hurt  too  often.  Fast  riding  over  a 
new  trail  is  leaping  in  the  dark  and  worse  than 


D'RI  AND   I  101 

treason  to  one's  self . ;,  ?£$&«&/!$  a 'saddle  wet 
with  your  own  blood,  then  y-ou'haye,  something 
to  give  you  a  turft 'oi'H'he  stornach  thinking 
of  it. 

When  I  was  near  tumbling  with  a  kind  of 
rib-ache  and  could  hear  no  pursuer,  I  pulled 
up.  There  was  silence  about  me,  save  the 
sound  of  a  light  breeze  in  the  tree-tops.  I 
rolled  off  my  horse,  and  hooked  my  elbow  in 
the  reins,  and  lay  on  my  belly,  grunting  with 
pain.  I  felt  better,  having  got  my  breath,  and 
a  rod  of  beech  to  bite  upon  —  a  good  thing  if 
one  has  been  badly  stung  and  has  a  journey  to 
make.  In  five  minutes  I  was  up  and  off  at  a 
slow  jog,  for  I  knew  I  was  near  safety. 

I  thought  much  of  poor  D'ri  and  how  he 
might  be  faring.  The  last  I  had  seen  of  him, 
he  was  making  good  use  of  pistol  and  legs,  run 
ning  from  tree  to  tree.  He  was  a  dead  shot, 
little  given  to  wasting  lead.  The  drums  were 
what  worried  me,  for  they  indicated  a  big  camp, 
and  unless  he  got  to  the  stirrups  in  short  order, 
he  must  have  been  taken  by  overwhelming  odjds. 
It  was  near  sundown  when  I  came  to  a  brook 
and  falls  I  could  not  remember  passing.  I 


D'RI  AND   I  102 

looked  abc'ut  ms.  Some  where  I  had  gone  oft 
the  old.  trail  — everything  was  new  to  me.  It 
widened,  as  Trode  ori/up  a  steep  hill.  Where 
the  tree-tops  opened,  the  hill  was  covered  with 
mossy  turf,  and  there  were  fragrant  ferns  on 
each  side  of  me.  The  ground  was  clear  of 
brush  and  dead  timber.  Suddenly  I  heard  a 
voice  singing  —  a  sweet  girl  voice  that  thrilled 
me,  I  do  not  know  why,  save  that  I  always 
longed  for  the  touch  of  a  woman  if  badly  hurt. 
But  then  I  have  felt  that  way  having  the  pain 
of  neither  lead  nor  steel.  The  voice  rang  in  the 
silent  woods,  but  I  could  see  no  one  nor  any 
sign  of  human  habitation.  Shortly  I  came  out 
upon  a  smooth  roadway  carpeted  with  sawdust. 
It  led  through  a  grove,  and  following  it,  I  came 
suddenly  upon  a  big  green  mansion  among  the 
trees,  with  Doric  pillars  and  a  great  portico 
where  hammocks  hung  with  soft  cushions  in 
them,  and  easy-chairs  of  old  mahogany  stood 
empty.  I  have  said  as  little  as  possible  of  my 
aching  wound :  I  have  always  thdught  it  bad 
enough  for  one  to  suffer  his  own  pain.  But  I 
must  say  I  was  never  so  tried  to  keep  my  head 
above  me  as  when  I  came  to  that  door.  Two 


D'RI  AND   I  103 

figures  in  white  came  out  to  meet  me.  At  first 
I  did  not  observe  —  I  had  enough  to  do  keeping 
my  eyes  open  —  that  they  were  the  Miles,  de 
Lambert. 

"  God  save  us !  "  I  heard  one  of  them  say. 
"  He  is  hurt ;  he  is  pale.  See  the  blood  run 
ning  off  his  boot-leg/' 

Then,  as  one  took  the  bit,  the  other  eased  me 
down  from  my  saddle,  calling  loudly  for  help. 
She  took  her  handkerchief  —  that  had  a  per 
fume  I  have  not  yet  forgotten — as  she  sup 
ported  me,  and  wiped  the  sweat  and  dust  from 
my  face.  Then  I  saw  they  were  the  splendid 
young  ladies  I  had  seen  at  the  count's  table. 
The  discovery  put  new  life  in  me ;  it  was  like  a 
dash  of  water  in  the  face.  I  lifted  my  hat  and 
bowed  to  them. 

"  Ladies,  my  thanks  to  you,"  I  said  in  as  good 
French  as  I  knew.  "  I  have  been  shot.  May 
I  ask  you  to  send  for  a  doctor  ? " 

A  butler  ran  down  the  steps ;  a  gardener  and 
a  stable-boy  hurried  out  of  the  grove. 

"To  the  big  room  —  the  Louis-Quinze,"  said 
one  of  the  girls,  excitedly,  as  the  men  came*  to 
my  help. 


D'RI  AND   I  104 

The  fat  butler  went  puffing  upstairs,  and 
they  followed,  on  each  side  of  me. 

"  Go  for  a  doctor,  quick,"  said  one  of  them 
to  the  gardener,  who  was  coming  behind — a 
Frenchman  who  prayed  to  a  saint  as  he  saw  my 
blood. 

They  led  me  across  a  great  green  rug  in  a 
large  hall  above-stairs  to  a  chamber  of  which  I 
saw  little  then  save  its  size  and  the  wealth  of  its 
appointments.  The  young  ladies  set  me  down, 
bidding  one  to  take  off  my  boots,  and  sending 
another  for  hot  water.  They  asked  me  where 
I  was  hurt.  Then  they  took  off  my  blouse  and 
waistcoat. 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  "  said  one  to  the  other.  "  What 
can  we  do  ?  Shall  we  cut  the  shirt  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  Cut  the  shirt,"  said  the  other. 
"  We  must  help  him.  We  cannot  let  him  die." 

"  God  forbid!"  was  the  answer.  "See  the 
blood.  Poor  fellow  !  It  is  terrible  !  " 

They  spoke  very  tenderly  as  they  cut  my 
shirt  with  scissors,  and  bared  my  back,  and 
washed  my  wound  with  warm  water.  I  never 
felt  a  touch  so  caressing  as  that  of  their  light 
fingers,  but,  gods  of  war !  it  did  hurt  me.  The 


D'RI  AND   I  105 

bathing  done,  they  bound  me  big  with  bandages 
and  left  the  room  until  the  butler  had  helped  me 
into  bed.  They  came  soon  with  spirits  and 
bathed  my  face  and  hands.  One  leaned  over 
me,  whispering,  and  asking  what  I  would  like  to 
eat.  Directly  a  team  of  horses  came  prancing 
to  the  door. 

"  The  colonel ! "  one  of  them  whispered, 
listening. 

"  The  colonel,  upon  my  soul!  "  said  the  other, 
that  sprightly  Louison,  as  she  tiptoed  to  the 
window.  They  used  to  call  her  "  Tiptoes  "  at 
the  Hermitage. 

The  colonel !  I  remembered  she  was  none 
other  than  the  Baroness  de  Ferre  ;  and  thinking 
of  her  and  of  the  grateful  feeling  of  the  sheets 
of  soft  linen,  I  fell  asleep. 


VIII  io6 

LHE  doctor  came  that  night,  and 
took  out  of  my  back  a  piece  of 
flattened  lead.  It  had  gone 
under  the  flesh,  quite  half 
round  my  body,  next  to  the 
ribs,  without  doing  worse  than  to  rake  the 
bone  here  and  there  and  weaken  me  with  a 
loss  of  blood.  I  woke  awhile  before  he  came. 
The  baroness  and  the  fat  butler  were  sitting 
beside  me.  She  was  a  big,  stout  woman  of 
some  forty  years,  with  dark  hair  and  gray  eyes, 
and  teeth  of  remarkable  whiteness  and  sym 
metry.  That  evening,  I  remember,  she  was  in 
full  dress. 

"  My  poor  boy  !  "  said  she,  in  English  and  in 
a  sympathetic  tone,  as  she  bent  over  me. 

Indeed,  my  own  mother  could  not  have  been 
kinder  than  that  good  woman.  She  was  one  that 
had  a  heart  and  a  hand  for  the  sick-room.  I 


D'RI  AND   I  107 

told  her  how  I  had  been  hurt  and  of  my  ride. 
She  heard  me  through  with  a  glow  in  her  eyes. 

"  What  a  story  !  "  said  she.  "  What  a  dare 
devil  !  I  do  not  see  how  it  has  been  possible 
for  you  to  live." 

She  spoke  to  me  always  in  English  of  quaint 
wording  and  quainter  accent.  She  seemed  not 
to  know  that  I  could  speak  French. 

An  impressive  French  tutor  —  a  fine  old  fel 
low,  obsequious  and  bald-headed  —  sat  by  me  all 
night  to  give  me  medicine.  In  the  morning  I 
felt  as  if  I  had  a  new  heart  in  me,  and  was 
planning  to  mount  my  horse.  I  thought  I 
ought  to  go  on  about  my  business,  but  I  fear  I 
thought  more  of  the  young  ladies  and  the  possi 
bility  of  my  seeing  them  again.  The  baroness 
came  in  after  I  had  a  bite  to  eat.  I  told  her  I 
felt  able  to  ride. 

"  You  are  not  able,  my  child.  You  cannot 
ride  the  horse  now,"  said  she,  feeling  my  brow ; 
"  maybe  not  for  a  ver'  long  time.  I  have  a 
large  house,  plenty  servant,  plenty  food.  Par- 
bleu !  be  content.  We  shall  take  good  care*  of 
you.  If  there  is  one  message  to  go  to  your 
chief,  you  know  I  shall  send  it." 


D'RI  AND   I  108 

I  wrote  a  brief  report  of  my  adventure  with 
the  British,  locating  the  scene  as  carefully  as 
might  be,  and  she  sent  it  by  mounted  messenger 
to  "the  Burg." 

"The  young  ladies  they  wish  to  see  you," 
said  the  baroness.  "  They  are  kind-hearted ; 
they  would  like  to  do  what  they  can.  But  I 
tell  them  no;  they  will  make  you  to  be  very 
tired." 

'•'  On  the  contrary,  it  will  rest  me.  Let  them 
come,"  I  said. 

"But  I  warn  you,"  said  she,  lifting  her  ringer 
as  she  left  the  room,  "do  not  fall  in  love.  They 
are  full  of  mischief.  They  do  not  study.  They 
do  not  care.  You  know  they  make  much  fun 
all  day." 

The  young  ladies  came  in  presently.  They 
wore  gray  gowns  admirably  fitted  to  their  fine 
figures.  They  brought  big  bouquets  and  set 
them,  with  a  handsome  courtesy,  on  the  table 
beside  me.  They  took  chairs  and  sat  solemn- 
faced,  without  a  word,  as  if  it  were  a  Quaker 
meeting  they  had  come  to.  I  never  saw  better 
models  of  sympathetic  propriety.  I  was  about 
to  speak.  One  of  them  shook  her  head,  a  fin 
ger  on  her  lips. 


D'RI  AND   I  109 

"  Do  not  say  one  word,"  she  said  solemnly  in 
English.  "  It  will  make  you  ver'  sick." 

It  was  the  first  effort  of  either  of  them  to 
address  me  in  English.  As  I  soon  knew,  the 
warning  had  exhausted  her  vocabulary.  The 
baroness  went  below  in  a  moment.  Then 
the  one  who  had  spoken  came  over  and  sat  near 
me,  smiling. 

"  She  does  not  know  you  can  speak  French," 
said  she,  whispering  and  addressing  me  in  her 
native  tongue,  as  the  other  tiptoed  to  the  door. 
"  On  your  life,  do  not  let  her  know.  She  will 
never  permit  us  to  see  you.  She  will  keep  us 
under  lock  and  key.  She  knows  we  cannot 
speak  English,  so  she  thinks  we  cannot  talk 
with  you.  It  is  a  great  lark.  Are  you  better? " 

What  was  I  to  do  under  orders  from  such 
authority  ?  As  they  bade  me,  I  hope  you  will 
say,  for  that  is  what  I  did.  I  had  no  easy  con 
science  about  it,  I  must  own.  Day  after  day  I 
took  my  part  in  the  little  comedy.  They  came 
in  Quaker-faced  if  the  baroness  were  at  hand, 
never  speaking,  except  to  her,  until  she  had 
gone.  Then  —  well,  such  animation,  such  wit, 
such  bright  eyes,  such  brilliancy,  I  have  never 
seen  or  heard. 


D'RI  AND   I  no 

My  wound  was  healing.  War  and  stern  duty 
were  as  things  of  the  far  past.  The  grand  pas 
sion  had  hold  of  me.  I  tried  to  fight  it  down, 
to  shake  it  off,  but  somehow  it  had  the  claws  of 
a  tiger.  There  was  an  odd  thing  about  it  all : 
I  could  not  for  the  life  of  me  tell  which  of  the 
two  charming  girls  I  loved  the  better.  It  may 
seem  incredible ;  I  could  not  understand  it  my 
self.  They  looked  alike,  and  yet  they  were 
quite  different.  Louison  was  a  year  older  and 
of  stouter  build.  She  had  more  animation  also, 
and  always  a  quicker  and  perhaps  a  brighter 
answer.  The  other  had  a  face  more  serious, 
albeit  no  less  beautiful,  and  a  slower  tongue. 
She  had  little  to  say,  but  her  silence  had  much 
in  it  to  admire,  and,  indeed,  to  remember.  They 
appealed  to  different  men  in  me  with  equal 
force,  I  did  not  then  know  why.  A  perplexing 
problem  it  was,  and  I  had  to  think  and  suffer 
much  before  I  saw  the  end  of  it,  and  really 
came  to  know  what  love  is  and  what  it  is  not. 

Shortly  I  was  near  the  end  of  this  delightful 
season  of  illness.  I  had  been  out  of  bed  a  week. 
The  baroness  had  read  to  me  every  day,  and 
had  been  so  kind  that  I  felt  a  great  shame  for 


"  /  could  not  for  the  life  of  me  tell  which  of  the 
two  charming  girls  I  loved  tJie  better." 


D'RI  AND    I  in 

my  part  in  our  deception.  Every  afternoon  she 
was  off  in  a  boat  or  in  her  caleche,  and  had 
promised  to  take  me  with  her  as  soon  as  I  was 
able  to  go. 

"  You  know,"  said  she,  "  I  am  going  to  make 
you  to  stay  here  a  full  month.  I  have  the  con 
sent  of  the  general." 

I  had  begun  to  move  about  a  little  and  enjoy 
the  splendor  of  that  forest  home.  There  were, 
indeed,  many  rare  and  priceless  things  in  it 
that  came  out  of  her  chateau  in  France.  She 
had  some  curious  old  clocks,  tokens  of  ancestral 
taste  and  friendship.  There  was  one  her  grand 
father  had  got  from  the  land  of  Louis  XIV  — 
le  Grand  Monargue,  of  whom  my  mother  had 
begun  to  tell  me  as  soon  as  I  could  hear  with 
understanding.  Another  came  from  the  bed 
chamber  of  Philip  II  of  Spain  —  a  grand  high 
clock  that  had  tolled  the  hours  in  that  great  hall 
beyond  my  door.  A  little  thing,  in  a  case  of 
carved  ivory,  that  ticked  on  a  table  near  my 
bed,  Moliere  had  given  to  one  of  her  ancestors, 
and  there  were  many  others  of  equal  interest. 

Her  walls  were  adorned  with  art  treasures  of 
the  value  of  which  I  had  little  appreciation  those 


D'RI  4ND   I  112 

days.  But  I  remember  there  were  canvases  of 
Correggio  and  Rembrandt  and  Sir  Joshua  Rey 
nolds.  She  was,  indeed,  a  woman  of  fine  taste, 
who  had  brought  her  best  to  America ;  for  no 
one  had  a  doubt,  in  the  time  of  which  I  am 
writing,  that  the  settlement  of  the  Compagnie 
de  New  York  would  grow  into  a  great  colony, 
with  towns  and  cities  and  fine  roadways,  and 
the  full  complement  of  high  living.  She  had 
built  the  Hermitage,  —  that  was  the  name  of 
the  mansion,  —  fine  and  splendid  as  it  was,  for 
a  mere  temporary  shelter  pending  the  arrival  of 
those  better  days. 

She  had  a  curious  fad,  this  hermit  baroness 
of  the  big  woods.  She  loved  nature  and  was  a 
naturalist  of  no  poor  attainments.  Wasps  and 
hornets  were  the  special  study  of  this  remark 
able  woman.  There  were  at  least  a  score  of  their 
nests  on  her  front  portico  —  big  and  little,  and 
some  of  them  oddly  shaped.  She  hunted  them 
in  wood  and  field.  When  she  found  a  nest  she 
had  it  moved  carefully  after  nightfall,  under  a 
bit  of  netting,  and  fastened  somewhere  about 
the  gables.  Around  the  Hermitage  there  were 
many  withered  boughs  and  briers  holding  cones 


D'RI  AND   I  113 

of  wrought  fibre,  each  a  citadel  of  these  uni 
formed  soldiers  of  the  air  and  the  poisoned 
arrow.  They  were  assembled  in  colonies  of 
yellow,  white,  blue,  and  black  wasps,  and  white- 
faced  hornets.  She  had  no  fear  of  them,  and, 
indeed,  no  one  of  the  household  was  ever  stung 
to  my  knowledge.  I  have  seen  her  stand  in 
front  of  her  door  and  feed  them  out  of  a  saucer. 
There  were  special  favorites  that  would  light 
upon  her  palm,  overrunning  its  pink  hollow  and 
gorging  at  the  honey-drop. 

"They  will  never  sting,"  she  would  say,  "if 
one  does  not  declare  the  war.  To  strike,  to  make 
any  quick  motion,  it  gives  them  anger.  Then, 
mon  cher  ami !  it  is  terrible.  They  cause  you 
to  burn,  to  ache,  to  make  a  great  noise,  and 
even  to  lie  down  upon  the  ground.  If  people 
come  to  see  me,  if  I  get  a  new  servant,  I  say  : 
'  Make  to  them  no  attention,  and  they  will  not 
harm  you.'  " 

In  the  house  I  have  seen  her  catch  one  by 
the  wings  on  a  window  and,  holding  it  carefully 
ask  me  to  watch  her  captive  —  sometimes  a 
great  daredevil  hornet,  lion-maned  —  as  he  fay 
stabbing  with  his  poison-dagger. 


D'RI  AND   I  114 

"  Now,"  said  she,  "  he  is  angry ;  he  will  remem 
ber.  If  I  release  him  he  will  sting  me  when  I 
come  near  him  again.  So  I  do  not  permit  him 
to  live  —  I  kill  him." 

Then  she  would  impale  him  and  invite  me  to 
look  at  him  with  the  microscope. 

One  day  the  baroness  went  away  to  town  with 
the  young  ladies.  I  was  quite  alone  with  the 
servants.  Father  Joulin  of  the  chateau  came 
over  and  sat  awhile  with  me,  and  told  me  how 
he  had  escaped  the  Parisian  mob,  a  night  in  the 
Reign  of  Terror.  Late  in  the  afternoon  I 
walked  awhile  in  the  grove  with  him.  When 
he  left  I  went  slowly  down  the  trail  over  which 
I  had  ridden.  My  strength  was  coming  fast.  I 
felt  like  an  idle  man,  shirking  the  saddle,  when 
I  should  be  serving  my  country.  I  must  to  my 
horse  and  make  an  end  to  dallying.  With 
thoughts  like  these  for  company,  I  went  farther 
than  I  intended.  Returning  over  the  bushy 
trail  I  came  suddenly  upon  —  Louison  !  She 
was  neatly  gowned  in  pink  and  white. 

"  Le  diable  !  "  said  she.  "  You  surprise  me. 
I  thought  you  went  another  way." 

"  Or  you  would  not  have  taken  this  one,"  I  said. 


D'RI  AND   I  115 

"Of  course  not,"  said  she.  "One  does  not 
wish  to  find  men  if  she  is  hunting  for  —  for  —  " 
she  hesitated  a  moment,  blushing —  "  mon  Dieu  ! 
for  bears,"  she  added. 

I  thought  then,  as  her  beautiful  eyes  looked 
up  at  me  smiling,  that  she  was  incomparable, 
that  I  loved  her  above  all  others  —  I  felt  sure 
of  it. 

"  And  why  do  you  hunt  bears  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  think  it  is  because  they 
are  so  —  so  beautiful,  so  amiable!"  she  an 
swered. 

"  And  such  good  companions." 

"  Yes ;  they  never  embarrass  you,"  she  went 
on.  "  You  never  feel  at  loss  for  a  word." 

"  I  fear  you  do  not  know  bears." 

"  Dieu  !  better  than  men.  Voila  !  "  she  ex 
claimed,  touching  me  with  the  end  of  her  para 
sol.  "  You  are  not  so  terrible.  I  do  not  think 
you  would  bite." 

"  No  ;  I  have  never  bitten  anything  but  —  but 
bread  and  doughnuts,  or  something  of  that  sort." 

"  Come,  I  desire  to  intimidate  you.  Won't 
you  please  be  afraid  of  me  ?  Indeed,  I  can  be 
very  terrible.  See  !  I  have  sharp  teeth." 


D'RI  AND   I  116 

She  turned  with  a  playful  growl,  and  parting 
her  crimson  lips,  showed  them  to  me  —  white 
and  shapely,  and  as  even  as  if  they  had  been 
wrought  of  ivory.  She  knew  they  were  beau 
tiful,  the  vixen. 

"  You  terrify  me.  I  have  a  mind  to  run,"  I 
said,  backing  off. 

"  Please  do  not  run,"  she  answered  quickly. 
"  I  should  be  afraid  that  —  that  —  " 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  stirring  the  moss 
with  one  dainty  foot. 

"That  you  might  not  return,"  she  added, 
smiling  as  she  looked  up  at  me. 

11  Then  —  then  perhaps  it  will  do  as  well  if  I 
climb  a  tree." 

"  No,  no  ;  I  wish  to  talk  with  you." 

"  Ma'm'selle,  you  honor  me,"  I  said. 

"  And  dishonor  myself,  I  presume,  with  so 
much  boldness,"  she  went  on.  "  It  is  only  that 
I  have  something  to  say ;  and  you  know  when 
a  woman  has  something  to  —  to  say  —  " 

"  It  is  a  fool  that  does  not  listen  if  she  be  as 
fair  as  you,"  I  put  in. 

"  You  are  —  well,  I  shall  not  say  what  I  think 
of  you,  for  fear  —  for  fear  of  giving  offence," 


D'RI  AND   I  117 

said  she,  blushing  as  she  spoke.  "  Do  you  like 
the  life  of  a  soldier  ?  " 

"Very  much,  and  especially  when  I  am 
wounded,  with  such  excellent  care  and  com 
pany." 

"  But  your  side  —  it  was  so  horribly  torn.  I 
did  feel  very  sorry  —  indeed  I  did.  You  will  go 
again  to  the  war  ?  " 

"  Unless  —  unless  —  Ah,  yes,  ma'm'selle,  I 
shall  go  again  to  the  war,"  I  stammered,  going 
to  the  brink  of  confession,  only  to  back  away 
from  it,  as  the  blood  came  hot  to  my  cheeks. 

She  broke  a  tiny  bough  and  began  stripping 
its  leaves. 

"Tell  me,  do  you  love  the  baroness?"  she 
inquired  as  she  whipped  a  swaying  bush  of 
brier. 

The  question  amazed  me.  I  laughed  ner 
vously. 

"  I  respect,  I  admire  the  good  woman  —  she 
would  make  an  excellent  mother,"  was  my 
answer. 

"  Well  spoken !  "  she  said,  clapping  her  hands. 
"  I  thought  you  were  a  fool.  I  did  not  know 
whether  you  were  to  blame  or  —  or  the  Creator." 


D'RI  AND   I  118 

"  Or  the  baroness,"  I  added,  laughing. 

"Well,"  said  she,  with  a  pretty  shrug,  "is 
there  not  a  man  for  every  woman  ?  The  baron 
ess  she  thinks  she  is  irresistible.  She  has 
money.  She  would  like  to  buy  you  for  a  play 
thing —  to  marry  you.  But  I  say  beware.  She 
is  more  terrible  than  the  keeper  of  the  Bastile. 
And  you  —  you  are  too  young !  " 

"  My  dear  girl,"  said  I,  in  a  voice  of  pleading, 
"it  is  terrible.  Save  me!  Save  me,  I  pray 
you !  " 

"  Pooh  !  I  do  not  care  !  "  — with  a  gesture  of 
indifference.  "  I  am  trying  to  save  myself,  that 
is  all." 

"  From  what  ?  " 

"Another  relative.  Parbleu!  I  have  enough." 
She  stamped  her  foot  impatiently  as  she  spoke. 
"  I  should  be  very  terrible  to  you.  I  should 
say  the  meanest  things.  I  should  call  you 
grandpapa  and  give  you  a  new  cane  every 
Christmas." 

"  And  if  you  gave  me  also  a  smile,  I  should 
be  content." 

More  than  once  I  was  near  declaring  myself 
that  day,  but  I  had  a  mighty  fear  she  was  play- 


D'RI  AND   I  119 

ing  with  me,  and  held  my  tongue.  There  was 
an  odd  light  in  her  eyes.  I  knew  not,  then, 
what  it  meant. 

"  You  are  easily  satisfied,"  was  her  answer. 

"  I  am  to  leave  soon,"  I  said.  "  May  I  not 
see  you  here  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Alas !  I  do  not  think  you  can,"  was  her 
answer. 

"  And  why  not  ?  " 

"  Because  it  would  not  be  proper,"  said  she, 
smiling  as  she  looked  up  at  me. 

"  Not  proper!     I  should  like  to  know  why." 

"  It  would  make  me  break  another  engage 
ment,"  she  went  on,  laughing.  "  I  am  to  go 
with  the  baroness  to  meet  the  count  if  he  comes 
—  she  has  commanded.  The  day  after,  in  the 
morning,  at  ten  o'clock,  by  the  cascade  —  will 
that  do  ?  Good !  I  must  leave  you  now.  I 
must  not  return  with  you.  Remember  !  "  she 
commanded,  pointing  at  me  with  her  tapered 
forefinger.  "Remember  —  ten  o'clock  in  the 
morning." 

Then  she  took  a  bypath  and  went  out  of  sight. 
I  returned  to  the  mansion  as  deep  in  love  as  a 
man  could  be.  I  went  to  dinner  with  the  rest 


D'RI  AND   I  120 

that  evening.  Louison  came  in  after  we  were 
all  seated. 

"You  are  late,  my  dear,"  said  the  baroness. 

"  Yes ;  I  went  away  walking  and  lost  some 
thing,  and  was  not  able  to  find  it  again." 


IX  121 

EXT  morning  the  baroness  went 
away  in  her  glittering  caleche 
with  Louison.  Each  shining 
spoke  and  golden  turret  flashed 
the  sunlight  back  at  me  as  I 
looked  after  them  at  the  edge  of  the  wood. 
The  baroness  had  asked  me  to  go  with  her, 
but  I  thought  the  journey  too  long.  Louise 
came  out  and  sat  by  me  awhile  as  I  lay  in  the 
hammock.  She  was  all  in  white.  A  trifle 
taller  and  a  bit  more  slender  than  her  sister, 
I  have  sometimes  thought  her  beauty  was 
statelier,  also,  and  more  statuesque.  The  sight 
of  her  seemed  to  kindle  in  me  the  spirit  of  old 
chivalry.  I  would  have  fought  and  died  for  her 
with  my  best  lance  and  plume.  In  all  my  life 

I  had  not  seen  a  woman  of  sweeter  graces  of 

> 

speech  and  manner,  and,  in  truth,  I  have  met 
some  of  the  best  born  of  her  sex. 


D'RI  AND    I  122 

She  had  callers  presently  —  the  Sieur  Michel 
and  his  daughter.  I  went  away,  then,  for  a 
walk,  and,  after  a  time,  strolled  into  the  north 
trail.  Crossing  a  mossy  glade,  in  a  circle  of 
fragrant  cedar,  I  sat  down  to  rest.  The  sound 
of  falling  water  came  to  my  ear  through  thick 
ets  of  hazel  and  shadberry.  Suddenly  I  heard 
a  sweet  voice  singing  a  love-song  of  Provence 

—  the  same  voice,  the  same  song,  I  had  heard 
the    day  I  came   half    fainting    on   my  horse. 
Somebody  was  coming  near.      In  a  moment  I 
saw  Louise  before  me. 

"  What,  ma'm'selle !  "  I  said;  "  alone  in  the 
woods !  " 

"  Not  so,"  said  she.     "  I  knew  you  were  here 

—  somewhere,  and  —  and  —  well,  I  thought  you 
might  be  lonely." 

"  You  are  a  good  angel,"  I  said,  "  always  try 
ing  to  make  others  happy." 

"Eh  bien,"  said  she,  sitting  beside  me,  "I 
was  lonely  myself.  I  cannot  read  or  study.  I 
have  neglected  my  lessons ;  I  have  insulted  the 
tutor  —  threw  my  book  at  him,  and  walked 
away,  for  he  sputtered  at  me.  I  do  not  know? 
what  is  the  matter.  I  know  I  am  very 


Louise. 


D'RI  AND   I  123 

wicked.  Perhaps  —  ah  me  !  perhaps  it  is  the 
devil." 

"  Ma'm'selle,  it  is  appalling  !  "  I  said.  "  You 
may  have  injured  the  poor  man.  You  must  be 
very  bad.  Let  me  see  your  palm." 

I  held  her  dainty  fingers  in  mine,  that  were 
still  hard  and  brown,  peering  into  the  pink  hol 
low  of  her  hand.  She  looked  up  curiously. 

"  A  quick  temper  and  a  heart  of  gold,"  I  said. 
"If  the  devil  has  it,  he  is  lucky,  and  —  well,  I 
should  like  to  be  in  his  confidence." 

"Ah,  m'sieur,"  said  she,  seriously,  a  little 
tremor  on  her  lips,  "  I  have  much  trouble  — 
you  do  not  know.  I  have  to  fight  with 
myself." 

"  You  have,  then,  a  formidable  enemy,"  I 
answered. 

"  But  I  am  not  quarrelsome,"  said  she, 
thoughtfully.  "  I  am  only  weary  of  the  life 
here.  I  should  like  to  go  away  and  be  of  some 
use  in  the  world.  I  suppose  it  is  wicked,  for 
my  papa  wishes  me  to  stay.  And  bah  !  it  is  a 
prison  —  a  Hopital  de  Salpetriere  !  " 

"  Ma'm'selle,"  I  exclaimed,  "  if  you  talk  like 
that  I  shall  take  you  on  my  horse  and  fly  with 


D'RI  AND    I  124 

you.  I  shall  come  as  your  knight,  as  your 
deliverer,  some  day." 

"  Alas !  "  said  she,  with  a  sigh,  "  you  would 
find  me  very  heavy.  One  has  nothing  to  do 
here  but  grow  lazy  and  —  ciel!  —  fat." 

If  my  meeting  with  her  sister  had  not  made 
it  impossible  and  absurd,  I  should  have  offered 
my  heart  to  this  fair  young  lady  then  and  there. 
Now  I  could  not  make  it  seem  the  part  of  honor 
and  decency.  I  could  not  help  adoring  her  sim 
plicity,  her  frankness,  her  beautiful  form  and 
face. 

"  It  is  no  prison  for  me,"  I  said.  "  I  do  not 
long  for  deliverance.  I  cannot  tell  you  how 
happy  I  have  been  to  stay — how  unhappy  I 
shall  be  to  leave." 

"  Captain,"  she  said  quickly,  "  you  are  not 
strong;  you  are  no  soldier  yet." 

"  Yes  ;  I  must  be  off  to  the  wars." 

"And  that  suggests  an  idea,"  said  she, 
thoughtfully,  her  chin  upon  her  hand. 

"Which  is?" 

"  That  my  wealth  is  ill  fortune,"  she  went  on, 
with  a  sigh.  "Men  and  women  are  fighting 
and  toiling  and  bleeding  and  dying  to  make  the 


D'RI  AND   I  125 

world  better,  and  I  —  I  am  just  a  lady,  fussing, 
primping,  peering  into  a  looking-glass  !  I  should 
like  to  do  something,  but  they  think  I  am  too 
good  —  too  holy." 

"But  it  is  a  hard  business  —  the  labors  and 
quarrels  of  the  great  world,"  I  suggested. 

"Well  —  it  is  God's  business,"  she  continued. 
"  And  am  I  not  one  of  his  children,  and  '  wist 
ye  not  that  I  must  be  about  my  Father's  busi 
ness  ? '  It  was  not  too  good  for  the  man  who 
said  that." 

"  But  what  would  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  I  suppose  I  can  do  nothing 
because  —  alas  !  because  my  father  has  bought 
my  obedience  with  a  million  francs.  Do  you 
not  see  that  I  am  in  bondage  ? " 

"  Be  patient ;  the  life  of  a  rich  demoiselle  is 
not  barren  of  opportunity." 

"To  be  gay  —  oh!  one  might  as  well  be  a 
peacock ;  to  say  pretty  things,  one  might  better 
be  a  well-trained  parrot ;  to  grace  the  court  or 
the  salon,  I  had  as  soon  be  a  statue  in  the  cor 
ner —  it  has  more  comfort,  more  security;  to 
be  admired,  to  hear  fine  compliments  —  well, 
you  know  that  is  the  part  of  a  pet  poodle.  I 


D'RI  AND    I  126 

say,  captain,  to  be  happy  one  must  be  free 
to  do." 

I  looked  into  her  big  eyes,  that  were  full  of 
their  new  discovery. 

"I  should  like  to  be  among  the  wounded  sol 
diers,"  said  she,  her  face  brightening.  "  It  did 
make  me  very  happy  to  sit  by  your  bedside  and 
do  for  you." 

There  was  a  very  tender  look  in  her  eyes 
then. 

She  started  to  rise.  A  brier,  stirring  in  the 
breeze,  had  fallen  across  her  hair.  She  let  me 
loose  the  thorns,  and,  doing  so,  I  kissed  her 
forehead —  I  could  not  help  it. 

"  M'sieur ! "  she  exclaimed  in  a  whisper. 
Then  she  turned  quickly  away  and  stood 
tearing  a  leaf  in  her  fingers. 

"  Forgive  me  !  "  I  pleaded,  for  I  saw  she  was 
crying.  "  It  was  the  impulse  of  a  moment. 
Pray  forgive  me  !  " 

She  stood  motionless  and  made  no  answer. 
I  never  felt  such  a  stir  in  me,  for  I  had  a  fear, 
a  terrible  fear,  that  I  had  lost  what  I  might 
never  have  again. 

"  It  was  honorable  admiration,"  I  continued, 


D'RI  AND  I  127 

rising  to  my  full  height  beside  her.  "  Tell  me, 
ma'm'selle,  have  I  hurt  you  ? " 

"  No,"  said  she,  in  a  voice  that  trembled.  "  I 
am  thinking  —  I  am  thinking  of  somebody  else." 

The  words,  spoken  so  slowly,  so  sweetly, 
seemed,  nevertheless,  to  fly  at  me.  "  Of  some 
body  else !  "  Whom  could  she  mean  ?  Kad  her 
sister  told  her?  Did  she  know  of  my  meeting 
with  Louison  ?  I  was  about  to  confess  how 
deeply,  how  tenderly,  I  loved  her.  I  had  spoken 
the  first  word  when  this  thought  flashed  upon 
me,  and  I  halted.  I  could  not  go  on. 

"Ma'm'selle,"  I  said,  "  I  — I  — if  it  is  I  of 
whom  you  are  thinking,  give  me  only  your 
pity,  and  I  can  be  content.  Sometime,  per 
haps,  I  may  deserve  more.  If  I  can  be  of 
any  service  to  you,  send  for  me  —  command 
me.  You  shall  see  I  am  not  ungrateful.  Ah, 
ma'm'selle,"  I  continued,  as  I  stood  to  my  full 
height,  and  felt  a  mighty  uplift  in  my  heart  that 
seemed  to  toss  the  words  out  of  me,  "  I  have  a 
strong  arm  and  a  good  sword,  and  the  love  of 
honor  and  fair  women." 

She  wiped  her  eyes,  and  turned  and  looked 
up  at  me.  I  was  no  longer  a  sick  soldier. 


D'RI  AND   I  128 

"  It  is  like  a  beautiful  story,"  she  said  thought 
fully  ;  "  and  you  — you  are  like  a  knight  of  old. 
We  must  go  home.  It  is  long  past  luncheon 
hour.  We  must  hurry." 

She  gave  me  her  arm  up  the  hill,  and  we 
walked  without  speaking. 

"  I  am  very  well  to-day,"  I  remarked  as  we 
came  to  the  road.  "  If  you  will  wait  here 
until  I  get  to  the  big  birch,  I  shall  go  around 
to  see  if  I  can  beat  you  to  the  door." 

"It  is  not  necessary,"  said  she,  smiling,  "and 
—  and,  m'sieur,  I  am  not  ashamed  of  you  or  of 
what  I  have  done." 

The  baroness  and  Louison  had  not  yet 
returned.  M.  Pidgeon  was  at  luncheon  with 
us  in  the  big  dining  room,  and  had  much  to 
say  of  the  mighty  Napoleon  and  the  coalition 
he  was  then  fighting. 

The  great  monsieur  stayed  through  the  after 
noon,  as  the  baroness  had  planned  a  big  house- 
party  for  the  night,  in  celebration  of  the  count's 
return.  My  best  clothes  had  come  by  messenger 
from  the  Harbor,  and  I  could  put  myself  in  good 
fettle.  The  baroness  and  the  count  and  Louison 
came  early,  and  we  sat  long  together  under  the 
trees. 


D'RI  AND   I  129 

The  dinner  was  at  seven.  There  were  more 
than  a  dozen  guests,  among  whom  were  a 
number  I  had  seen  at  the  chateau  —  Mr. 
David  Parish  of  Ogdensburg,  who  arrived  late 
in  a  big,  two-wheeled  cart  drawn  by  four  horses 
that  came  galloping  to  the  door,  and  General 
Wilkinson,  our  new  commander  in  the  North, 
a  stout,  smooth-faced  man,  who  came  with  Mr. 
Parish  in  citizen's  dress. 

At  dinner  the  count  had  much  to  say  of 
scenes  of  excitement  in  Albany,  where  he  had 
lately  been.  The  baroness  and  her  wards  were 
resplendent  in  old  lace  and  sparkling  jewels. 
Great  haunches  of  venison  were  served  from 
a  long  sideboard;  there  was  a  free  flow  of 
old  Madeira  and  Burgundy  and  champagne 
and  cognac.  Mr.  Parish  and  the  count  and 
the  general  and  Moss  Kent  and  M.  Pidgeon 
sat  long  at  the  table,  with  cigars  and  coffee, 
after  the  rest  of  us  had  gone  to  the  parlors, 
and  the  big  room  rang  with  their  laughter. 
The  young  Marquis  de  Gonvello  and  Mr. 
Marc  Isambert  Brunei  of  the  Compagnie, 
who  afterward  founded  the  great  machine- 
shops  of  the  Royal  Navy  Yard  at  Portsmouth 


D'RI  AND   I  130 

and  became  engineer  of  the  Thames  tunnel, 
and  Pierre  Chassinis,  Jr.,  and  I  waltzed  with 
the  ladies.  Presently  I  sat  down  near  the 
baroness,  who  was  talking  in  French  with 
The"rese  Le  Ray,  the  count's  daughter. 

"  Pardon  my  using  French,"  said  the  bar 
oness,  turning  to  me,  "  for  I  believe  you  do 
not  use  it,  and,  my  friend,  it  is  a  misfortune, 
for  you  miss  knowing  what  good  company  is 
the  Ma'm'selle  Le  Ray." 

"And  I  miss  much  pleasure  and  mayhap  a 
duel  with  the  marquis,"  I  said,  laughing ;  "  but 
I  beg  you  to  proceed  with  your  talk.  I  have 
learned  many  words  since  I  came  here,  and  I 
love  the  sound  of  it." 

"We  saw  British  soldiers  to-day,"  she  con 
tinued  to  Ma'm'selle  Le  Ray,  in  French. 
"They  crossed  the  road  near  us  on  their 
horses." 

Louison  came  over  and  sat  by  them. 

"They  were  not  in  uniform,"  the  baroness 
continued,  "but  I  knew  they  were  English; 
you  cannot  mistake  them." 

"  And  what  do  you  think  ? "  said  Louison, 
eagerly.  "  One  of  them  threatened  to  kiss  me." 


D'RI  AND    I  131 

"  Indeed,  that  was  terrible,"  said  Ma'm'selle 
Le  Ray.  "You  must  have  been  afraid." 

"  Yes,"  said  she,  smiling,  "  afraid  he  would  n't. 
They  were  a  good-looking  lot." 

"  I  do  not  think  he  was  speaking  of  you  at 
all,"  said  the  baroness.  "  He  was  looking  at 
me  when  —  " 

"  Ciel !  "  exclaimed  Louison,  laughing.  "  That 
is  why  they  turned  suddenly  and  fled  into  the 
fields." 

I  fled,  too,  —  perhaps  as  suddenly  as  the  Brit 
ishers,  —  to  save  myself  the  disgrace  of  laughter. 

The  great  clock  in  the  hall  above-stairs  tolled 
the  hour  of  two.  The  ladies  had  all  gone  to 
bed  save  the  baroness.  The  butler  had  started 
upstairs,  a  candelabrum  in  his  hand.  Follow 
ing  him  were  the  count  and  Mr.  Parish,  sup 
porting  the  general  between  them.  The  able 
soldier  had  overrated  his  capacity.  All  had 
risen  to  go  to  their  rooms.  Of  a  sudden  we 
were  startled  by  a  loud  rap  on  the  front  door. 
A  servant  opened  it,  and  immediately  I  heard 
the  familiar  voice  of  D'ri. 

"  Is  they  anybody  here  by  the  name  o'  Mis 
ter  Bell?"  he  asked. 


D'RI  AND   I  132 

I  ran  to  the  door,  and  there  stood  D'ri,  his 
clothes  wet,  his  boots  muddy,  for  it  had  been 
raining.  Before  he  could  speak  I  had  my  arms 
around  him,  and  he  sank  to  his  knees  in  my 
embrace.  He  was  breathing  heavily. 

"Tired  out  — thet 's  whut's  the  matter,"  he 
muttered,  leaning  over  on  one  hand.  "  Come 
through  the  woods  t'  save  yer  life,  I  did,  an' 
they  was  tight  up  t'  me  all  the  way." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  the  baroness,  who  stood 
at  the  door.  "Help  him  in  at  once  and  give 
him  a  sip  of  brandy." 

"Tuk  me  prisoner  over  there  'n  the  woods 
thet  day,"  said  he,  sinking  into  a  chair  and  lean 
ing  forward,  his  head  on  his  hands.  "  They  tuk 
'n'  they  toted  me  over  t'  Canady,  an'  I  tuk  'n'  got 
away,  'n'  they  efter  me.  Killed  one  on  'em  thet 
was  chasin'  uv  me  over  'n  the  Beaver  medders 
on  the  bog  trail.  Hoss  got  t'  wallerin'  so  he  hed 
t'  come  down.  Riz  up  out  o'  the  grass  'n' 
ketched  holt  uv  'im  'fore  he  c'u'd  pull  a  weepon. 
Tuk  this  out  uv  his  pocket,  an'  I  tried  to  git 
the  hoss  out  o'  the  mire,  but  did  n't  hev  time." 

He  sat  erect  and  proudly  handed  me  a  sheet 
of  paper.  I  opened  it,  and  read  as  follows :  — 


D'RI  AND   I  133 

"To  CAPTAIN  ELIAS  WILKINS,  Royal  Fusiliers. 

"My  dear  Captain :  You  will  proceed  at  once 
across  the  river  with  a  detail  of  five  men 
mounted  and  three  days'  rations,  and,  if  possi 
ble,  capture  the  prisoner  who  escaped  early  this 
morning,  making  a  thorough  search  of  the 
woods  in  Jefferson  County.  He  has  informa 
tion  of  value  to  the  enemy,  and  I  regard  his 
death  or  capture  of  high  and  immediate  impor 
tance.  I  am  informed  that  the  young  desperado 
who  murdered  my  Lord  of  Pickford  in  the  for 
est  below  Clayton  June  29,  escaping,  although 
badly  wounded,  is  lying  at  the  country-seat  of 
the  Baroness  de  Ferre,  a  Frenchwoman,  at 
Leraysville,  Jefferson  County,  New  York.  It 
would  gratify  me  if  you  could  accomplish  one 
or  both  captures.  With  respect,  I  am, 
"  Your  Obedient  Servant, 

"  R.  SHEAFFER,  General  Commanding." 

"They'll  be  here,"  said  D'ri.  "They'll  be 
here  jest  es  sure  es  God  —  'fore  daylight, 
mebbe.  But  I  can't  fight  er  dew  nothin'  till 
I  've  hed  some  vittles." 

"  You  shall  have  supper,"  said  the  baroness, 
who,  without  delay,  went  to  the  kitchen  herself 
with  a  servant  to  look  after  it.  The  butler 
brought  a  pair  of  slippers  and  a  dry  coat, 


D'RI  AND   I  134 

while  I  drew  off  the  boots  of  my  good  friend. 
Then  I  gave  him  my  arm  as  he  limped  to  the 
kitchen  beside  me.  The  baroness  and  I  sat 
near  him  as  he  ate. 

"  Go  upstairs  and  call  the  gentlemen,"  said 
she  to  the  butler.  "  Do  not  make  any  disturb 
ance,  but  say  I  should  like  to  speak  with  them 
in  the  dining  room." 

"Is  thet  air  hired  man  o'  yours  a  Britisher ? " 
D'ri  inquired  as  soon  as  the  butler  was  gone. 

"  He  is  —  from  Liverpool,"  said  she. 

"Thet's  the  hole  'n  the  fence,"  said  he. 
"Thet's  where  the  goose  got  away." 

"The  goose!  The  geese!"  said  the  baron 
ess,  thoughtfully.  "  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"Went  'n'  blabbed,  thet 's  whut  he  done," 
said  D'ri.  "  Mebbe  wrote  'em  a  letter,  gol-dum 
his  pictur'." 

"  Oh,  I  perceive !  I  understand,"  said  she ; 
"and  I  send  him  away  to-morrow." 

"  Neck 's  broke  with  hunger,"  said  D'ri. 
"  Never  threw  no  vittles  'n  my  basket  with 
sech  a  splendid  taste  tew  'em  es  these  hev." 

The  baroness  looked  at  him  with  some  show 
of  worry. 


D'RI  AND    I  135 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  she,  "  did  you  say 
the  neck  of  you  was  broken  ? " 

I  explained  the  idiom. 

"  Ain't  hed  nothin'  t'  eat  since  day  'fore  yis- 
tiddy,"  said  D'ri.  " Judas  Priest!  I  'm  all  et 
up  with  hunger." 

With  old  Burgundy  and  biscuit  and  venison 
and  hot  coffee  he  was  rapidly  reviving. 

"  I  'm  wondering  where  I  will  hide  you  both," 
said  the  baroness,  thoughtfully. 

"  Hed  n't  orter  hev  no  rumpus  here,  'n'  go  t' 
shootin'  'n'  mebbe  spile  yer  house  'n'  furnicher," 
said  D'ri.  "  'T  ain't  decent  er  't  ain't  nice. 
We  'd  better  mek  tracks  an'  put  a  mild  er 
tew  'twixt  us  'n'  here  'fore  we  hev  any  trouble. 
'T  ain't  a-goin'  t'  be  no  Sunday  School.  Ef  they 
can,  they  're  a-goin' t'  tek  us  dead  er  'live.  Ef 
they  ever  tuk  us  we  would  n't  be  wuth  shucks, 
nuther  on  us,  efter  court  martial." 

"  I  shall  not  permit  you  to  go,"  said  the  bar 
oness.  "They  may  be  here  now,  about  the 
house  in  the  dark.  They  would  shoot  you,  they 
would  stab  you,  they  would  cause  you  to  die  >  as 
you  went.  No,  I  shall  permit  you  not  to  go. 
There  are  four  of  them  ?  Very  well ;  we  shall 


D'RI  AND   I  136 

fight  here,  we  shall  conquer.  We  have  a  gen 
eral,  a  count,  a  millionnaire,  a  marquis,  a  lawyer, 
an  astronomer,  a  scout,  and,"  she  added,  patting 
me  on  the  shoulder,  "  le  brave  capitaine !  I  have 
four  guns  and  three  pistols,  and  M'sieur  Bell 
has  arms  also.  We  shall  conquer.  We  shall 
make  them  to  bite  the  dust." 

"  Guns,  did  ye  say  ?  Jerushy  Jane  !  Le'  's 
hev  'em,"  said  D'ri. 

"What  did  he  call  me  ?  Mon  Dieu  !  Jerushy 
Jane  !  It  is  not  I,"  said  the  baroness. 

Again  I  explained  the  difficulty. 

"Ain't  very  proper-spoke,"  said  D'ri,  apolo 
getically.  "  Jest  wan'  t'  say  et  them  air  guns  er 
likely  t'  come  handy  here  'most  any  minute. 
Give  us  guns,  'n'  we  '11  sock  it  to  'em." 

"  We  shall  sock  it  to  them,  we  shall  indeed," 
said  she,  hurrying  out  of  the  room.  "  We  shall 
make  them  to  run  for  their  lives." 

They  were  all  in  the  dining  room  —  the  men 
of  the  party  —  save  the  general,  who  could  not 
be  awakened.  Guns  and  pistols  were  loaded. 
I  made  a  novel  plan  of  defence  that  was  unani 
mously  approved.  I  posted  a  watch  at  every 
window.  A  little  after  dawn  the  baroness,  from 


D'RI  AND   I  137 

behind  a  curtain,  saw  a  squad  of  horsemen  com 
ing  through  the  grove. 

"  Ici !  they  have  come ! "  said  she,  in  a  loud 
whisper.  "  There  are  not  four ;  there  are 
many." 

I  took  my  detail  of  six  men  above-stairs. 
Each  had  a  strip  of  lumber  we  had  found  in 
the  shop,  and  each  carefully  raised  a  window, 
waiting  the  signal.  I  knew  my  peril,  but  I  was 
never  so  cool  in  my  life.  If  I  had  been  wiser, 
possibly  I  should  have  felt  it  the  more.  The 
horsemen  promptly  deployed,  covering  every 
side  of  the  mansion.  They  stood  close, 
mounted,  pistol  and  sabre  ready.  Suddenly 
I  gave  the  signal.  Then  each  of  us  thrust  out 
the  strip  of  lumber  stealthily,  prodding  the  big 
drab  cones  on  every  side.  Hornets  and  wasps, 
a  great  swarm  of  them,  sprang  thick  as  seeds 
from  the  hand  of  a  sower.  It  was  my  part  to 
unhouse  a  colony  of  the  long,  white-faced  hor 
nets.  Goaded  .by  the  ruin  of  their  nests,  they 
saw  the  nodding  heads  below  them,  and  darted 
at  man  and  horse  like  a  flight  of  arrows.  They 
put  their  hot  spurs  into  flank  and  face  and  neck. 
I  saw  them  strike  and  fall;  they  do  hit  hard, 


D'RI  AND  I  138 

those  big-winged  Vespce.  It  was  terrible,  the 
swift  charge  of  that  winged  battalion  of  the 
air.  I  heard  howls  of  pain  below  me,  and 
the  thunder  of  rushing  feet.  The  horses  were 
rearing  and  plunging,  the  men  striking  with 
their  hats. 

I  heard  D'ri  shouting  and  laughing  at  his 
window. 

"  Give  'em  hell,  ye  little  blue  devils ! "  he 
yelled;  and  there  was  all  evidence  that  they 
understood  him. 

Then,  again,  every  man  of  us  opened  his  win 
dow  and  fired  a  volley  at  the  scurrying  mass. 

One  horse,  rearing  and  leaping  on  his  hind 
legs,  came  down  across  the  back  of  another,  and 
the  two  fell  heavily  in  a  rolling,  convulsive 
heap.  One,  as  if  blinded,  bumped  a  tree,  going 
over  on  his  withers,  all  fours  flashing  in  the  air. 
Some  tore  off  in  the  thickets,  as  unmanageable 
as  the  wild  moose.  More  than  half  threw  their 
riders.  Not  a  man  of  them  pulled  a  trigger : 
they  were  busy  enough,  God  knows.  Not  one 
of  them  could  have  hit  the  sky  with  any  cer 
tainty.  I  never  saw  such  a  torrent  of  horse 
hair  and  red  caps. 


D'RI  AND    I  139 

"Whut!  Been  on  the  back  o'  one  o'  'em 
bosses  ? "  said  D'ri,  telling  of  it  a  long  time 
after.  "'D  ruther  o'  been  shet  up  'n  a  barrel 
with  a  lot  o'  cats  'n'  rolled  downhill.  Good  deal 
better  fer  my  health,  an'  I  'd  'a'  luked  more  like 
a  human  bein'  when  I  come  out.  Them  fellers 
—  they  did  n't  luk  fit  t'  'sociate  with  nuthin'  er 
nobody  when  we  led  'em  up  t'  the  house  —  nut 
one  on  'em." 

Only  one  Britisher  was  brought  down  by  our 
bullets,  and  he  had  been  the  mark  of  D'ri :  with 
him  a  rifle  was  never  a  plaything.  Five  others 
lay  writhing  in  the  grass,  bereft  of  horse,  de 
serted  by  their  comrades.  The  smudges  were 
ready,  and  the  nets.  D'ri  and  I  put  on  the  lat 
ter  and  ran  out,  placing  a  smudge  row  on  every 
side  of  the  Hermitage.  The  winged  fighters 
were  quickly  driven  away.  Of  the  helpless 
enemy  one  had  staggered  off  in  the  brush ;  the 
others  lay  groaning,  their  faces  lumpy  and  one 
sided.  A  big  sergeant  had  a  nose  of  the  look 
and  diameter  of  a  goose-egg;  one  carried  a 
cheek  as  large  and  protuberant  as  the  jowl  of 
a  porker's  head ;  and  one  had  ears  that  stuck 
out  like  a  puffed  bladder.  They  were  helpless. 


D'RI  AND   I  140 

We  disarmed  them  and  brought  them  in,  doing 
all  we  could  for  their  comfort  with  blue  clay  and 
bruised  plantain.  It  was  hard  on  them,  I  have 
often  thought,  but  it  saved  an  ugly  fight  among 
ladies,  and,  no  doubt,  many  lives.  I  know,  if 
they  had  taken  us,  D'ri  and  I  would  never  have 
got  back. 

I  have  saved  myself  many  a  time  by  strategy, 
but  chose  the  sword  always  if  there  were  an 
even  chance.  And,  God  knows,  if  one  had  ever 
a  look  at  our  bare  bodies,  he  would  see  no  sign 
of  shirking  on  either  D'ri  or  me. 


X 


HE  shooting  and  shouting  and 
the  tramp  of  horse  and  man  had 
roused  everybody  in  the  big 
house.  Even  the  general  came 
down  to  know  what  was  the 
matter.  The  young  ladies  came,  pale  and 
frightened,  but  in  faultless  attire.  I  put  an 
armed  guard  by  the  prisoners  at  the  door, 
under  command  of  D'ri.  Then  I  had  them 
bare  the  feet  of  the  four  Britishers,  knowing 
they  could  not  run  bootless  in  the  brush.  We 
organized  a  convoy,  —  the  general  and  I,  —  and 
prepared  to  start  for  the  garrison.  We  kept 
the  smudges  going,  for  now  and  then  we 
could  hear  the  small  thunder  of  hornet-wings 
above  us.  There  is  a  mighty  menace  in  it,  I 
can  tell  you,  if  they  are  angry. 

"  Jerushy  Jane  Pepper  !  "  said  D'ri,  as  he  sat, 
rifle   on   his    knee,   looking   at    his    prisoners. 


D'RI  AND   I  142 

"  Never  thought  nobody  c'u'd  luk  s'  joemighty- 
ful  cur'us.  Does  mek  a  man  humly  t'  hev  any 
trouble  with  them  air  willy-come-bobs."  He 
meant  wasps. 

I  had  had  no  opportunity  for  more  than  a 
word  with  the  young  ladies.  I  hoped  it  might 
come  when  I  went  in  for  a  hasty  breakfast  with 
the  baroness,  the  count,  the  general,  and  Mr. 
Parish.  As  we  were  eating,  Louison  came  in 
hurriedly.  She  showed  some  agitation. 

"What  is  the  trouble,  my  dear?"  said  the 
baroness,  in  French. 

"Eh  bien,  only  this,"  said  she:  "I  have 
dropped  my  ring  in  the  brook.  It  is  my  em 
erald.  I  cannot  reach  it." 

"  Too  bad  !  She  has  dropped  her  ring  in  the 
brook,"  said  the  baroness,  in  English,  turning 
to  me. 

"  If  she  will  have  the  kindness  to  take  me 
there,"  I  said  to  the  hostess,  rising  as  I  spoke, 
"  I  shall  try  to  get  it  for  her." 

"  M'sieur  le  Capitaine,  you  are  very  obliging," 
said  she.  Then,  turning  to  Louison,  she  added 
in  French  :  "  Go  with  him.  He  will  recover  it 
for  you." 


D'RI  AND   I  143 

It  pleased  and  flattered  me,  the  strategy  of 
this  wonderful  young  creature.  She  led  me, 
with  dainty  steps,  through  a  dewy  garden  walk 
into  the  trail. 

"  Parbleu  !  "  she  whispered,  "  is  it  not  a  shame 
to  take  you  from  your  meat  ?  But  I  could  not 
help  it.  I  had  to  see  you ;  there  is  something 
I  wish  to  say." 

"A  pretty  girl  is  better  than  meat,"  I  an 
swered  quickly.  "  I  am  indebted  to  you." 

"  My !  but  you  have  a  ready  tongue,"  said 
she.  "  It  is  with  me  a  pleasure  to  listen.  You 
are  going  away  ?  You  shall  not  return  —  per 
haps  ? " 

She  was  trying  to  look  very  gay  and  indiffer 
ent,  but  in  her  voice  I  could  detect  a  note  of 
trouble.  The  flame  of  passion,  quenched  for 
a  little  time  by  the  return  of  peril  and  the 
smoke  of  gunpowder,  flashed  up  in  me. 

"  It  is  this,"  she  went  on :  "I  may  wish  you 
to  do  me  a  favor.  May  I  have  your  address?" 

"And  you  may  command  me,"  I  said  as  I 
gave  it  to  her. 

"  Have  a  care  !  "  she  said,  laughing.  "  I  may 
ask  you  to  do  desperate  things  —  you  may  need 


D'RI  AND    I  144 

all  your  valor.  The  count  and  the  baroness  — 
they  may  send  us  back  to  France." 

"  Which  will  please  you,"  I  remarked. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said  quickly.  "  Mon  Dieu  ! 
I  do  not  know  what  I  want ;  I  am  a  fool.  Take 
this.  Wear  it  when  you  are  gone.  Not  that 
I  care  —  but  —  it  will  make  you  remember." 

She  held  in  her  fingers  a  flashing  emerald  on 
a  tiny  circlet  of  gold.  Before  I  could  answer 
she  had  laid  it  in  my  hard  palm  and  shut  my 
hand  upon  it. 

"  Dieu  !  "  she  exclaimed,  whispering,  "  I  must 
return  —  I  must  hurry.  Remember,  we  did  not 
find  the  ring." 

I  felt  a  great  impulse  to  embrace  her  and 
confess  my  love.  But  I  was  not  quick  enough. 
Before  I  could  speak  she  had  turned  away  and 
was  running.  I  called  to  her,  but  she  did  not 
turn  or  seem  to  hear  me.  She  and  my  oppor 
tunity  were  gone. 

We  stowed  the  prisoners  in  the  big  coach  of 
the  baroness,  behind  a  lively  team  of  four. 
Then  my  horse  and  one  for  D'ri  were  brought 
up. 

"  Do  not  forget,"  said  the  baroness,  holding 


D'RI  AND    I  145 

my  hand,  "  you  are  always  welcome  in  my  house. 
I  hope,  ma  f oi !  that  you  will  never  find  happi 
ness  until  you  return." 

The  young  ladies  came  not  to  the  step 
where  we  were,  but  stood  by  the  count  wav 
ing  adieux.  Louison  had  a  merry  smile  and 
a  pretty  word  of  French  for  me ;  Louise  only 
a  sober  look  that  made  me  sad,  if  it  did  not 
speak  for  the  same  feeling  in  her.  The 
count  was  to  remain  at  the  Hermitage,  having 
sent  to  the  chateau  for  a  squad  of  his  armed 
retainers.  They  were  to  defend  the  house, 
if,  by  chance,  the  British  should  renew  their 
attack.  Mr.  Parish  and  his  footman  and 
the  general  went  with  us,  the  former  driving. 
D'ri  and  I  rode  on  behind  as  the  coach  went 
off  at  a  gallop. 

He  was  a  great  whip,  that  man  David  Par 
ish,  who  had  built  a  big  mansion  at  Ogdens- 
burg  and  owned  so  much  of  the  north  country 
those  days.  He  was  a  gentleman  when  the 
founders  of  the  proud  families  of  to-day  were 
dickering  in  small  merchandise.  Indeed,  one 
might  look  in  vain  for  such  an  establishment 
as  his  north  of  Virginia.  This  side  the 


D'RI  AND   I  146 

Atlantic  there  was  no  stable  of  horses  to  be 
compared  with  that  he  had  —  splendid  Eng 
lish  thoroughbreds,  the  blood  of  which  is  now 
in  every  great  family  of  American  horses. 
And,  my  faith !  he  did  love  to  put  them  over 
the  road.  He  went  tearing  up  hill  and  down  at 
a  swift  gallop,  and  the  roads  were  none  too 
smooth  in  that  early  day.  Before  leaving 
home  he  had  sent  relays  ahead  to  await  his 
coming  every  fifteen  miles  of  the  journey : 
he  always  did  that  if  he  had  far  to  go.  This 
time  he  had  posted  them  clear  to  the  Harbor. 
The  teams  were  quickly  shifted;  then  we 
were  off  again  with  a  crack  of  the  whip  and  a 
toot  of  the  long  horn.  He  held  up  in  the 
swamps,  but  where  footing  was  fair,  the 
high-mettled  horses  had  their  heads  and  little 
need  of  urging.  We  halted  at  an  inn  for  a  sip 
of  something  and  a  bite  to  eat. 

"  Parish,"  said  the  general,  rising  on  stif 
fened  legs,  "  I  like  your  company  and  I 
like  your  wine,  but  your  driving  is  a  punish 
ment." 

D'ri  was  worn  out  with  lack  of  sleep  and 
rest,  but  he  had  hung  doggedly  to  his  saddle. 


D'RI  AND   I 


'47 


"  How  do  you  feel  ?  "  I  asked  him  as  we 
drew  up  on  each  side  of  the  coach. 

"  Split  t'  the  collar,"  said  he,  soberly,  as  he 
rested  an  elbow  on  his  pommel. 

We  got  to  headquarters  at  five,  and  turned 
over  the  prisoners.  We  had  never  a  warmer 
welcome  than  that  of  the  colonel. 

"  I  congratulate  you  both,"  he  said  as  he 
brought  the  rum-bottle  after  we  had  made  our 
report.  "  You  Ve  got  more  fight  in  you  than 
a  wolverene.  Down  with  your  rum  and  off  to 
your  beds,  and  report  here  at  reveille.  I  have 
a  tough  job  for  you  to-morrow." 


XI  I48 

T  was,  indeed,  tougher  business 
than  we  had  yet  known  —  a  dash 
into  the  enemy's  country,  where 
my  poor  head  was  in  excellent 
demand.  D'ri  and  I  were  to 
cross  the  lake  with  a  band  of  raiders,  a  troop  of 
forty,  under  my  command.  We  were  to  rescue 
some  prisoners  in  a  lockup  on  the  other  side. 
They  were  to  be  shot  in  the  morning,  and 
our  mission  therefore  admitted  of  no  delay. 
Our  horses  had  been  put  aboard  a  brig  at 
midnight,  and  soon  after  the  noon  mess  we 
dropped  down  the  lake,  going  into  a  deep, 
wooded  cove  south  of  the  Grenadier  Island. 
There  we  lay  waiting  for  nightfall.  A  big 
wind  was  howling  over  the  woods  at  sunset, 
and  the  dark  came  on  its  wings  an  hour 
ahead  of  time.  The  night  was  black  and 
the  lake  noisy  when  we  got  under  way,  bound 


D'RI  AND   I  149 

for  a  flatboat  ferry.  Our  skipper,  it  turned 
out,  had  little  knowledge  of  those  waters.  He 
had  shortened  sail,  and  said  he  was  not  afraid 
of  the  weather.  The  wind,  out  of  the  south 
east,  came  harder  as  it  drove  us  on.  Before 
we  knew  it,  the  whole  kit  and  boodle  of  us 
were  in  a  devil  of  a  shakeup  there  in  the 
broad  water.  D'ri  and  I  were  down  among 
the  horses  and  near  being  trampled  under 
in  the  roll.  We  tried  to  put  about  then,  but 
the  great  gusts  of  wind  made  us  lower  sail 
and  drop  anchor  in  a  hurry.  Soon  the  horses 
were  all  in  a  tumble  and  one  on  top  of 
the  other.  We  had  to  jump  from  back  to  back 
to  save  ourselves.  It  was  no  pretty  business, 
I  can  tell  you,  to  get  to  the  stairway.  D'ri 
was  stripped  of  a  boot-leg,  and  I  was  cut 
in  the  chin  by  a  front  hoof,  going  ten  feet  or 
so  to  the  upper  deck.  To  the  man  who  was 
never  hit  in  the  chin  by  a  horse's  hoof  let  me 
say  there  is  no  such  remedy  for  a  proud  spirit. 
Bullets  are  much  easier  to  put  up  with  and 
keep  a  civil  tongue  in  one's  head.  That 
lower  deck  was  a  kind  of  horses'  hell.  We  had 
to  let  them  alone.  They  got  astraddle  of  one 


D'RI  AND    I  150 

another's  necks,  and  were  cut  from  ear  to 
fetlock  —  those  that  lived,  for  some  of  them,  I 
could  see,  were  being  trampled  to  death. 
How  many  I  never  knew,  for  suddenly  we  hit 
a  reef  there  in  the  storm  and  the  black  night. 
I  knew  we  had  drifted  to  the  north  shore,  and 
as  the  sea  began  to  wash  over  us  it  was  every 
man  for  himself.  The  brig  went  up  and  down 
like  a  sledge-hammer,  and  at  every  blow  her 
sides  were  cracking  and  caving.  She  keeled 
over  suddenly,  and  was  emptied  of  horse  and 
man.  A  big  wave  flung  me  far  among  the 
floundering  horses.  My  fingers  caught  in  a 
wet  mane ;  I  clung  desperately  between  crowd 
ing  flanks.  Then  a  big  wave  went  over  us. 
I  hung  on,  coming  up  astride  my  capture. 
He  swam  vigorously,  his  nose  high,  blowing 
like  a  trumpet.  I  thought  we  were  in  for  a 
time  of  it,  and  had  very  little  hope  for  any 
landing,  save  in  kingdom  come.  Every  minute 
I  was  head  under  in  the  wash,  and  the  roaring 
filled  me  with  that  mighty  terror  of  the  wind 
fall.  But,  on  my  word,  there  is  no  captain 
like  a  good  horse  in  bad  water.  Suddenly  I 
felt  him  hit  the  bottom  and  go  forward  on  his 


D'RI  AND    I  151 

knees.  Then  he  reared  up,  and  began  to  jump 
in  the  sand.  A  big  wave  washed  him  down 
again.  He  fell  on  his  side  in  a  shallow,  but 
rose  and  ran  wearily  over  a  soft  beach.  In  the 
blackness  around  me  I  could  see  nothing. 
A  branch  whipped  me  in  the  face,  and  I 
ducked.  I  was  not  quick  enough;  it  was  like 
fencing  in  the  dark.  A  big  bough  hit  me, 
raking  the  withers  of  my  horse,  and  I  rolled 
off  headlong  in  a  lot  of  bushes.  The  horse 
went  on,  out  of  hearing,  but  I  was  glad  enough 
to  lie  still,  for  I  had  begun  to  know  of  my 
bruises.  In  a  few  minutes  I  took  off  my  boots 
and  emptied  them,  and  wrung  my  blouse,  and 
lay  back,  cursing  my  ill  luck. 

But  that  year  of  1813  had  the  kick  of  ill  for 
tune  in  it  for  every  mother's  son  of  us  there  in 
the  North  country.  I  have  ever  noticed  that 
war  goes  in  waves  of  success  or  failure.  If  we 
had  had  Brown  or  Scott  to  lead  us  that  year, 
instead  of  Wilkinson,  I  believe  it  had  had  a  bet 
ter  history.  Here  was  I  in  the  enemy's  country. 
God  knew  where,  or  how,  or  when  I  should 
come  out  of  it.  I  thought  of  D'ri  and  how  it 
had  gone  with  him  in  that  hell  of  waters.  I 


D'RI  AND   I  152 

knew  it  would  be  hard  to  drown  him.  We  were 
so  near  shore,  if  he  had  missed  the  rocks  I  felt 
sure  he  would  come  out  safely.  I  thought  of 
Louison  and  Louise,  and  wondered  if  ever  I 
should  see  them  again.  Their  faces  shone  upon 
me  there  in  the  windy  darkness,  and  one  as 
brightly  as  the  other.  Afterwhiles  I  drew  my 
wet  blouse  over  me  and  went  asleep,  shivering. 
A  familiar  sound  woke  me  —  that  of  the 
reveille.  The  sun  was  shining,  the  sky  clear, 
the  wind  had  gone  down.  A  crow  sat  calling 
in  a  tree  above  my  head.  I  lay  in  a  strip  of 
timber,  thin  and  narrow,  on  the  lake  shore. 
Through  the  bushes  I  could  see  the  masts  of 
the  brig  slanting  out  of  water  some  rods  away. 
Beyond  the  timber  was  a  field  of  corn,  climbing 
a  side-hill  that  sloped  off  to  a  level,  grassy  plain. 
Beyond  the  hill-top,  reveille  was  still  sounding. 
A  military  camp  was  near  me,  and  although  I 
made  no  move,  my  mind  was  up  and  busy  as 
the  drumsticks  over  the  hill.  I  sat  as  quiet  as  a 
cat  at  a  mouse-hole,  looking  down  at  my  uni 
form,  not,  indeed,  the  most  healthful  sort  of 
dress  for  that  country.  All  at  once  I  caught 
sight  of  a  scarecrow  in  the  corn.  I  laughed  at 


D'RI  AND   I  153 

the  odd  grotesquery  of  the  thing  —  an  old  frock- 
coat  and  trousers  of  olive-green,  faded  and  torn 
and  fat  with  straw.  A  stake  driven  through  its 
collar  into  the  earth,  and  crowned  with  an 
ancient,  tall  hat  of  beaver,  gave  it  a  backbone. 
An  idea  came  to  me.  I  would  rob  the  scarecrow 
and  hide  my  uniform.  I  ran  out  and  hauled  it 
over,  and  pulled  the  stuffing  out  of  it.  The  coat 
and  trousers  were  made  for  a  stouter  man.  I 
drew  on  the  latter,  fattening  my  figure  with 
straw  to  fill  them.  That  done,  I  quickly  donned 
the  coat.  Each  sleeve-end  fell  to  my  finger 
tips,  and  its  girth  would  have  circled  a  flour- 
barrel  and  buttoned  with  room  to  spare.  But 
with  my  stuffing  of  straw  it  came  around  me  as 
snug  at  the  belt  as  the  coat  of  a  bear.  I  took 
alarm  as  I  closed  the  buttons.  For  half  a  min 
ute  I  had  heard  a  drum-tap  coming  nearer.  It 
was  the  measured  tap !  tap !  tap-tap-tap !  so 
familiar  to  me.  Now  I  could  hear  the  tread  of 
feet  coming  with  it  back  of  the  hill.  How  soon 
they  would  heave  in  sight  I  was  unable  to  reckon, 
but  I  dared  not  run  for  cover.  So  I  thrust  my 
scabbard  deep  in  the  soft  earth,  pulled  down  the 
big  beaver  hat  over  my  face,  muffled  my  neck 


D  RI  AND    I  154 

with  straw,  stuck  the  stake  in  front  of  me  to 
steady  myself,  and  stood  stiff  as  any  scarecrow  in 
Canada.  Before  I  was  done  a  column,  scarlet- 
coated,  came  out  in  the  level  beyond  the  hill 
side.  Through  a  hole  in  the  beaver  I  could  see 
them  clearly.  They  came  on,  rank  after  rank. 
They  deployed,  forming  an  open  square,  scarlet- 
sided,  on  the  green  turf,  the  gap  toward  me. 
Then  came  three,  walking  stiffly  in  black  coats, 
a  squad  leading  them.  The  thing  I  had  taken 
for  a  white  visor  was  a  blindfold.  Their  heads 
were  bare,  I  could  see,  now,  they  were  in 
shackles,  their  arms  behind  them.  They  were 
coming  to  their  death  —  some  of  my  unlucky 
comrades.  God  pity  them  !  A  spy  might  as 
well  make  his  peace  with  Heaven,  if  he  were 
caught  those  days,  and  be  done  with  hope. 
Suspicion  was  enough  to  convict  on  either  side 
of  the  water  that  year.  As  my  feet  sank  deeper 
in  the  soft  earth  I  felt  as  if  I  were  going  down 
to  my  grave.  The  soldiers  led  them  into  the 
gap,  standing  them  close  together,  backs  to  me. 
The  squad  drew  off.  The  prisoners  stood  erect, 
their  faces  turning  up  a  little,  as  if  they  were 
looking  into  the  clear,  blue  sky.  I  could  see 


D'RI  AND   I  155 

them  waver  as  they  stood  waiting.  The  sharp 
shooters  advanced,  halting  as  they  raised  their 
rifles.  To  my  horror,  I  saw  the  prisoners  were 
directly  between  me  and  them.  Great  God ! 
was  I  also  of  that  little  company  about  to  die  ? 
But  I  dared  not  move  a  step.  I  stood  still, 
watching,  trembling.  An  officer  in  a  shining 
helmet  was  speaking  to  the  riflemen.  His  hel 
met  seemed  to  jump  and  quiver  as  he  moved 
away.  Those  doomed  figures  began  to  reel  and 
sway  as  they  waited.  The  shiny  barrels  lifted  a 
little,  their  muzzles  pointing  at  them  and  at  me. 
The  corn  seemed  to  duck  and  tremble  as  it 
waited  the  volley.  A  great  black  ball  shot 
across  the  sky  in  a  long  curve,  and  began  to 
fall.  Then  came  the  word,  a  flash  of  fire,  a 
cloud  of  smoke,  a  roar  of  rifles  that  made  me 
jump  in  my  tracks.  I  heard  bullets  cuffing  the 
corn,  I  felt  the  dirt  fly  up  and  scatter  over  me, 
but  was  unhurt,  a  rigid,  motionless  man  of  straw. 
I  saw  my  countrymen  reel,  their  legs  go  limp  as 
rags,  their  bodies  fall  silently  forward.  The 
soldiers  stood  a  moment,  then  a  squad  went 

> 

after  the  dead  with  litters.  Forming  in  fours, 
they  marched  away  as  they  had  come,  their 


D'RI  AND   I  156 

steps  measured  by  that  regular  rap !  rap  !  rap- 
rap-rap  !  of  the  drum.  The  last  rank  went  out 
of  sight.  I  moved  a  little  and  pulled  the  stake, 
and  quickly  stuck  it  again,  for  there  were  voices 
near.  I  stood  waiting  as  stiff  as  a  poker.  Some 
men  were  running  along  the  beach ;  two  others 
were  coming  through  the  corn.  They  passed 
within  a  few  feet  of  me  on  each  side.  I  heard 
them  talking  with  much  animation.  They  spoke 
of  the  wreck.  When  they  were  well  by  me  I 
faced  about,  watching  them.  They  went  away 
in  the  timber,  down  to  a  rocky  point,  where  I 
knew  the  wreck  was  visible. 

They  were  no  sooner  out  of  sight  than  I 
pulled  the  stake  and  sabre,  and  shoved  the 
latter  under  my  big  coat.  Then  I  lifted  the 
beaver  and  looked  about  me.  There  was  not  a 
soul  in  sight.  From  that  level  plain  the  field 
ran  far  to  a  thick  wood  mounting  over  the  hill. 
I  moved  cautiously  that  way,  for  I  was  in  the 
path  of  people  who  would  be  coming  to  see  the 
wreck.  I  got  near  the  edge  of  the  distant 
wood,  and  hearing  a  noise,  halted,  and  stuck 
my  stake,  and  drew  my  hands  back  in  the 
sleeves,  and  stood  like  a  scarecrow,  peering 


D'RI  AND   I  157 

through  my  hat.  Near  me,  in  the  woods,  I 
could  hear  a  cracking  of  sticks  and  a  low  voice. 
Shortly  two  Irishmen  stuck  their  heads  out  of 
a  bush.  My  heart  gave  a  leap  in  me,  for  I  saw 
they  were  members  of  my  troop. 

"  Hello,  there  !  "  I  called  in  a  loud  voice. 

It  startled  them.  They  turned  their  heads  to 
see  where  the  voice  came  from,  and  stood 
motionless.  I  pulled  my  stake  and  made  for 
them  on  the  run.  I  should  have  known  better, 
for  the  sight  of  me  would  have  tried  the  legs 
of  the  best  trooper  that  ever  sat  in  a  saddle. 
As  they  told  me  afterward,  it  was  enough  to 
make  a  lion  yelp. 

"  Holy  Mother ! "  said  one,  as  they  broke 
through  the  bush,  running  for  their  lives.  I 
knew  not  their  names,  but  I  called  them  as 
loudly  as  I  dared.  They  went  on,  never  slack 
ing  pace.  It  was  a  bad  go,  for  I  was  burning 
for  news  of  D'ri  and  the  rest  of  them.  Now  I 
could  hear  some  heavy  animal  bounding  in  the 
brush  as  if  their  running  had  startled  him.  I 
went  back  to  the  corn  for  another  stand.  Sud 
denly  a  horse  came  up  near  me,  cropping  the 
brush.  I  saw  he  was  one  off  the  boat,  for  he  had 


D'RI  AND    I  158 

bridle  and  saddle,  a  rein  hanging  in  two  strings, 
and  was  badly  cut.  My  friend  !  the  sight  of  a 
horse  did  warm  me  to  the  toes.  He  got  a  taste 
of  the  tender  corn  presently,  and  came  toward 
me  as  he  ate.  In  a  moment  I  jumped  to  the 
saddle,  and  he  went  away  leaping  like  a  wild 
deer.  He  could  not  have  been  more  frightened 
if  I  had  dropped  on  him  out  of  the  sky.  I 
never  saw  such  energy  in  flesh  and  blood 
before.  He  took  a  mighty  fright  as  my  hand 
went  to  his  withers,  but  the  other  had  a  grip  on 
the  pommel,  and  I  made  the  stirrups.  I  leaned 
for  the  strings  of  the  rein,  but  his  neck  was 
long,  and  I  could  not  reach  them.  Before  I 
knew  it  we  were  tearing  over  the  hill  at  a  merry 
pace,  I  can  tell  you.  I  was  never  so  put  to  it 
for  the  right  thing  to  do,  but  I  clung  on.  The 
big  hat  shook  down  upon  my  collar.  In  all  my 
life  I  never  saw  a  hat  so  big.  Through  the 
break  in  it  I  could  see  a  farm-house.  In  a  jiffy 
the  horse  had  cleared  a  fence,  and  was  running, 
with  the  feet  of  terror,  in  a  dusty  road.  I  grew 
angry  at  myself  as  we  tore  along  —  I  knew  not 
why.  It  was  a  rage  of  discomfort,  I  fancy,  for 
somehow,  I  never  felt  so  bound  and  cluttered, 


D'RI  AND    I  159 

so  up  in  the  air  and  out  of  place  in  my  body. 
The  sabre  was  working  loose  and  hammering 
my  knee ;  the  big  hat  was  rubbing  my  nose,  the 
straw  chafing  my  chin.  I  had  something  under 
my  arm  that  would  sway  and  whack  the  side  of 
the  horse  every  leap  he  made.  I  bore  upon  it 
hard,  as  if  it  were  the  jewel  of  my  soul.  I  won 
dered  why,  and  what  it  might  be.  In  a 
moment  the  big  hole  of  my  hat  came  into  con 
junction  with  my  right  eye.  On  my  word,  it 
was  the  stake !  How  it  came  there  I  have 
never  known,  but,  for  some  reason,  I  held  to  it. 
I  looked  neither  to  right  nor  left,  but  sat  erect, 
one  hand  on  the  hilt  of  my  sabre,  the  other  in 
the  mane  of  my  horse,  knowing  full  well  I  was 
the  most  hideous-looking  creature  in  the  world. 
If  I  had  come  to  the  gate  of  heaven  I  believe 
St.  Peter  would  have  dropped  his  keys.  The 
straw  worked  up,  and  a  great  wad  of  it  hung 
under  my  chin  like  a  bushy  beard.  I  would 
have  given  anything  for  a  sight  of  myself,  and 
laughed  to  think  of  it,  although  facing  a  deadly 

peril,  as  I  knew.     But  I  was  young  and  had  no 

> 

fear  in  me  those  days.  Would  that  a  man 
could  have  his  youth  to  his  death-bed  !  It  was 


D'RI  AND    I  1 60 

a  leap  in  the  dark,  but  I  was  ready  to  take  my 
chances. 

Evidently  I  was  nearing  a  village.  Groups 
of  men  were  in  the  shady  thoroughfare;  chil 
dren  thronged  the  dooryards.  There  was  every 
sign  of  a  holiday.  As  we  neared  them  I 
caught  my  sabre  under  my  knee,  and  drew  my 
hands  into  the  long  sleeves  and  waved  them 
wildly,  whooping  like  an  Indian.  They  ran 
back  to  the  fences  with  a  start  of  fear.  As  I 
passed  them  they  cheered  loudly,  waving  their 
hats  and  roaring  with  laughter.  An  old  horse, 
standing  before  an  inn,  broke  his  halter  and 
crashed  over  a  fence.  A  scared  dog  ran  for  his 
life  in  front  of  me,  yelping  as  he  leaped  over  a 
stone  wall.  Geese  and  turkeys  flew  in  the  air 
as  I  neared  them.  The  people  had  seemed  to 
take  me  for  some  village  youth  on  a  masquer 
ade.  We  flashed  into  the  open  country  before 
the  sound  of  cheering  had  died  away.  On  we 
went  over  a  long  strip  of  hard  soil,  between 
fields,  and  off  in  the  shade  of  a  thick  forest. 
My  horse  began  to  tire.  I  tried  to  calm  him  by 
gentle  words,  but  I  could  give  him  no  confi 
dence  in  me.  He  kept  on,  laboring  hard  and 


D'RI  AND    I  161 

breathing  heavily,  as  if  I  were  a  ton's  weight. 
We  came  to  another  clearing  and  fields  of  corn. 
A  little  out  of  the  woods,  and  near  the  road, 
was  a  log  house  white-washed  from  earth  to 
eaves.  By  the  gate  my  horse  went  down.  I 
tumbled  heavily  in  the  road,  and  turning, 
caught  him  by  the  bits.  The  big  hat  had  shot 
off  my  head ;  the  straw  had  fallen  away.  A 
woman  came  running  out  of  the  open  door. 
She  had  bare  feet,  a  plump  and  cheery  face. 

"  Tonnerre !  "  said  she.  "  Qu'est  ce  que 
cela?" 

"  My  countrywoman,"  said  I,  in  French,  feel 
ing  in  my  under-trousers  for  a  bit  of  silver,  and 
tossing  it  to  her,  "  I  am  hungry." 

"  And  I  have  no  food  to  sell,"  said  she,  toss 
ing  it  back.  "  You  should  know  I  am  of 
France  and  not  of  England.  Come,  you  shall 
have  enough,  and  for  no  price  but  the  eating. 
You  have  a  tired  horse.  Take  him  to  the 
stable,  and  I  will  make  you  a  meal." 

I  led  my  horse  to  the  stable,  scraped  him  of 
lather  and  dirt,  gave  him  a  swallow  of  water,, 
and  took  the  same  myself,  for  I  had  a  mighty 
thirst  in  me.  When  I  came  in,  she  had  eggs 


D'RI  AND  I  162 

and  potatoes  and  bacon  over  the  fire,  and  was 
filling  the  tea-kettle. 

"On  my  soul,"  said  she,  frankly,  "you  are 
the  oddest-looking  man  I  ever  saw.  Tell  me, 
why  do  you  carry  the  long  club  ? " 

I  looked  down.  There  it  was  under  my  arm. 
It  surprised  me  more  than  anything  I  ever 
found  myself  doing. 

"  Madame,  it  is  because  I  am  a  fool,"  I  said 
as  I  flung  it  out  of  the  door. 

"It  is  strange,"  said  she.  "Your  clothes  — 
they  are  not  your  own ;  they  are  as  if  they  were 
hung  up  to  dry.  And  you  have  a  sabre  and 
spurs." 

"Of  that  the  less  said  the  better,"  I  an 
swered,  pulling  out  the  sabre.  "  Unless  —  un 
less,  madame,  you  would  like  me  to  die  young." 

"  Mon  Dieu  !  "  she  whispered.  "  A  Yankee 
soldier  ? " 

"  With  good  French  blood  in  him,"  I  added, 
"  who  was  never  so  hungry  in  all  his  life." 

I  went  out  of  the  door  as  I  spoke,  and 
shoved  my  sabre  under  the  house. 

"  I  have  a  daughter  on  the  other  side  of  the 
lake,"  said  she,  "  married  to  a  Yankee,  and  her 


D'RI  AND   I  163 

husband  is  fighting  the  British  with  the  rest  of 
you." 

"  God  help  him  !  "  said  I. 

"  Amen  !  "  said  she,  bringing  my  food  to  the 
table.  "The  great  Napoleon  he  will  teach  them 
a  lesson." 

She  was  a  widow,  as  she  told  me,  living 
there  alone  with  two  young  daughters  who  were 
off  at  a  picnic  in  the  near  town.  We  were 
talking  quietly  when  a  familiar  voice  brought 
me  standing. 

"Judas  Priest!"  it  said.  D'ri  stood  in  the 
doorway,  hatless  and  one  boot  missing  —  a 
sorry  figure  of  a  man. 

"Hidin'  over  'n  th'  woods  yender,"  he  went 
on  as  I  took  his  hand.  "  See  thet  air  brown 
hoss  go  by.  Knew  'im  soon  es  I  sot  eyes  on 
'im  —  use'  t'  ride  'im  myself.  Hed  an  idee  't  wus 
you  'n  the  saddle  —  sot  s'  kind  o'  easy.  But 
them  air  joemightyful  clo's !  Jerushy  Jane ! 
would  n't  be  fit  t'  skin  a  skunk  in  them  clo's, 
would  it  ? " 

"  Got  'em  off  a  scarecrow,"  I  said.  *«, 

"  'Nough  t'  mek  a  painter  ketch  'is  breath, 
they  wus." 


D'RI  AND   I  164 

The  good  woman  bade  him  have  a  chair  at 
the  table,  and  brought  more  food. 

"  Neck  's  broke  with  hunger,  't  is  sartin," 
said  he,  as  he  began  to  eat.  "  Hev  t'  light 
out  o'  here  purty  middlin'  soon.  'T  ain'  no 
safe  place  t'  be.  'T  won'  never  dew  fer  us  t' 
be  ketched." 

We  ate  hurriedly,  and  when  we  had  finished, 
the  good  woman  gave  us  each  an  outfit  of 
apparel  left  by  her  dead  husband.  It  was 
rather  snug  for  D'ri,  and  gave  him  an  odd  look. 
She  went  out  of  doors  while  we  were  dressing. 
Suddenly  she  came  back  to  the  door. 

"  Go  into  the  cellar,"  she  whispered.  "  They 
are  coming ! " 


XII 


FOUND  the  door,  and  D'ri  flung 
our  "duds"  into  the  darkness 
that  lay  beyond  it.  Then  he 
made  down  the  ladder,  and  I 
after  him.  It  was  pitch-dark  in 
the  cellar  —  a  deep,  dank  place  with  a  rank  odor 
of  rotting  potatoes.  We  groped  our  way  to 
a  corner,  and  stood  listening.  We  heard  the 
tramp  of  horses  in  the  dooryard  and  the  clink 
of  spurs  on  the  stone  step. 

"Ah,  my  good  woman,"  said  a  man  with 
a  marked  English  accent,  "  have  you  seen  any 
Yankees?  Woods  are  full  of  them  around 
here.  No  ?  Well,  by  Jove !  you're  a  good- 
looking  woman.  Will  you  give  me  a  kiss  ?  " 

He  crossed  the  floor  above  us,  and  she  was 
backing  away. 

"Come,  come,  don't  be  so  shy,  my  pretty 
woman,"  said  he,  and  then  we  could  hear  her 


D'RI  AND   I  166 

struggling  up  and  down  the  floor.  I  was  climb 
ing  the  ladder,  in  the  midst  of  it,  my  face  burn 
ing  with  anger,  and  D'ri  was  at  my  heels.  As 
the  door  opened,  I  saw  she  had  fallen.  The 
trooper  was  bending  to  kiss  her.  I  had 
him  by  the  collar  and  had  hauled  him  down 
before  he  discovered  us.  In  a  twinkling  D'ri 
had  stripped  him  of  sword  and  pistol.  But  it 
was  one  of  the  most  hopeless  situations  in  all 
my  life.  Many  muzzles  were  pointing  at  us 
through  the  door  and  window.  Another  hostile 
move  from  either  would  have  ended  our  history 
then  and  there.  I  let  go  and  stood  back. 
The  man  got  to  his  feet  — a  handsome  soldier 
in  the  full  uniform  of  a  British  captain. 

"  Ah,  there's  a  fine  pair  !  "  he  said  coolly, 
whipping  a  leg  of  his  trousers  with  his  glove. 
"  I  '11  teach  you  better  manners,  my  young 
fellow.  Some  o'  those  shipwrecked  Yankees," 
he  added,  turning  to  his  men.  "  If  they  move 
without  an  order,  pin  'em  up  to  the  wall." 

He  picked  up  his  hat  leisurely,  stepping 
in  front  of  D'ri. 

"  Now,  my  obliging  friend,"  said  he,  hold 
ing  out  his  hand,  "  I'll  trouble  you  for  my 
sword  and  pistol." 


"  He  iv  on  Id  Jiave  fongJit  to  tJie  deatJi  tJien  and 
there  if  I  had  but  given  him  the  word." 


D'RI  AND    I  167 

D'ri  glanced  over  at  me,  an  ugly  look  in 
his  eye.  He  would  have  fought  to  his  death 
then  and  there  if  I  had  given  him  the  word. 
He  was  game  to  the  core  when  once  his 
blood  was  up,  the  same  old  D'ri. 

"  Don't  fight,"  I  said. 

He  had  cocked  the  pistol,  and  stood  braced, 
the  sword  in  his  right  hand.  I  noticed  a  little 
quiver  in  the  great  sinews  of  his  wrist.  I 
expected  to  see  that  point  of  steel  shoot,  with 
a  quick  stab,  into  the  scarlet  blouse  before 
me. 

"Shoot  'nf  be  damned!"  said  D'ri.  "'Fore 
I  die  ye  '11  hev  a  hole  er  tew  'n  thet  air  karkiss 
o'  yourn.  Sha'n't  give  up  no  weepon  till  ye've 
gin  me  yer  word  ye  '11  let  thet  air  woman 
alone." 

I  expected  a  volley  then.  A  very  serious 
look  came  over  the  face  of  the  captain.  He 
wiped  his  brow  with  a  handkerchief.  I  could 
see  that  he  had  been  drinking. 

"  Ah,  I  see !  You  have  an  interest  in  her. 
Well,  my  man,  I  want  no  share  in  your  treas* 
ures.  I  accept  the  condition." 

Evil  as  was  the  flavor  of  this  poor  conces 
sion,  D'ri  made  the  best  of  it. 


D'RI  AND   I  168 

"  She 's  an  honest  woman  for  all  I  know," 
said  he,  handing  over  the  weapons.  "Ain't 
a-goin'  t'  see  no  ledy  mishused  —  nut  ef  I  can 
help  it." 

We  gave  ourselves  up  hand  and  foot  to  the 
enemy ;  there  was  no  way  out  of  it.  I  have 
read  in  the  story-books  how  men  of  great  nerve 
and  skill  have  slaughtered  five  to  one,  escaping 
with  no  great  loss  of  blood.  Well,  of  a  brave 
man  I  like  to  believe  good  things.  My  own 
eyes  have  seen  what  has  made  me  slow  to 
doubt  a  story  of  prowess  that  has  even  the 
merit  of  possibility.  But  when  there  are  only 
two  of  you,  and  one  without  arms,  and  you  are 
in  a  corner,  and  there  are  ten  pistols  pointing 
at  you  a  few  feet  away,  and  as  many  sabres 
ready  to  be  drawn,  I  say  no  power  less  remark 
able  than  that  of  God  or  a  novelist  can  bring 
you  out  of  your  difficulty.  You  have  your  choice 
of  two  evils — surrender  or  be  cut  to  pieces 
We  had  neither  of  us  any  longing  to  be  slashed 
with  steel  and  bored  with  bullets,  and  to  no 
end  but  a  good  epitaph. 

They  searched  the  cellar  and  found  our 
clothes,  and  wrapped  them  in  a  bundle.  Then 


D'RI  AND   I  169 

they  tied  our  hands  behind  us  and  took  us 
along  the  road  on  which  I  had  lately  ridden. 
A  crowd  came  jeering  to  the  highway  as  we 
passed  the  little  village.  It  was  my  great  fear 
that  somebody  would  recognize  either  one  or 
both  of  us. 

Four  of  our  men  were  sitting  in  a  guard 
house  at  the  British  camp.  After  noon  mess 
a  teamster  drove  up  with  a  big  wagon.  Guards 
came  and  shackled  us  in  pairs,  D'ri  being  wrist 
to  wrist  with  me.  They  put  a  chain  and  ball 
on  D'ri's  leg  also.  I  wondered  why,  for  no 
other  was  treated  with  like  respect.  Then 
they  bundled  us  all  into  the  wagon,  now  sur 
rounded  by  impatient  cavalry.  They  put  a 
blindfold  over  the  eyes  of  each  prisoner,  and 
went  away  at  a  lively  pace.  We  rode  a 
long  time,  as  it  seemed  to  me,  and  by  and  by 
I  knew  we  had  come  to  a  city,  for  I  could 
hear  the  passing  of  many  wagons  and  the  mur 
mur  of  a  crowd.  Some  were  shouting,  "  Shoot 
the  d — d  Yankees !  "  and  now  and  then  a 
missile  struck  among  us.  There  is  nothing  so 
heartless  and  unthinking  as  a  crowd,  the  world 
over.  I  could  tell  presently,  by  the  creak 


D'RI  AND    I 


170 


of  the  evener  and  the  stroke  of  the  hoofs,  that 
we  were  climbing  a  long  hill.  We  stopped 
shortly;  then  they  began  helping  us  out. 
They  led  us  forward  a  few  paces,  the  chain 
rattling  on  a  stone  pavement.  When  we  heard 
the  bang  of  an  iron  door  behind  us,  they 
unlocked  the  heavy  fetter.  This  done,  they 
led  us  along  a  gravel  walk  and  over  a  sound 
ing  stretch  of  boards, — a  bridge,  I  have  always 
thought,  —  through  another  heavy  door  and 
down  a  winding  flight  of  stone  steps.  They 
led  us  on  through  dark  passages,  over  stone 
paving,  and  halted  us,  after  a  long  walk, 
letting  our  eyes  free.  We  were  in  black  dark 
ness.  There  were  two  guards  before  and  two 
behind  us  bearing  candles.  They  unshackled 
us,  and  opened  a  lattice  door  of  heavy  iron, 
bidding  us  enter.  I  knew  then  that  we  were 
going  into  a  dungeon,  deep  under  the  walls 
of  a  British  fort  somewhere  on  the  frontier. 
A  thought  stung  me  as  D'ri  and  I  entered 
this  black  hole  and  sat  upon  a  heap  of  straw. 
Was  this  to  be  the  end  of  our  fighting  and  of  us? 
"You  can  have  a  candle  a  day,"  said  a  guard 
as  he  blew  out  the  one  he  carried,  laying  it, 


D'RI  AND   I  171 

with  a  tinder-box,  on  a  shelf  in  the  wall  of  rock 
beside  me.  Then  they  filed  out,  and  the  narrow 
door  shut  with  a  loud  bang.  We  peered  through 
at  the  fading  flicker  of  the  candles.  They  threw 
wavering,  ghostly  shadows  on  every  wall  of  the 
dark  passage,  and  suddenly  went  out  of  sight. 
We  both  stood  listening  a  moment. 

"  Curse  the  luck  !  "  I  whispered  presently. 

"Jest  as  helpless  es  if  we  was  hung  up  by 
the  heels,"  said  D'ri,  groping  his  way  to  the 
straw  pile.  "  Ain'  no  use  gittin'  wrathy." 

"  What  '11  we  do  ?  "  I  whispered. 

"  Dunno,"  said  he;  "an'  when  ye  dunno 
whut  t'  dew,  don'  dew  nuthin'.  Jest  stan'  still ; 
thet's  whut  I  b'lieve  in." 

He  lighted  the  candle,  and  went  about,  pour 
ing  its  glow  upon  every  wall  and  into  every 
crack  and  corner  of  our  cell  —  a  small  chamber 
set  firm  in  masonry,  with  a  ceiling  so  far  above 
our  heads  we  could  see  it  but  dimly,  the  candle 
lifted  arm's-length. 

"  Judas  Priest ! "  said  D'ri,  as  he  stopped  the 
light  with  thumb  and  finger.  "  I  'm  goin'  t'  s.et 
here  'n  th'  straw  luk  an  ol'  hen  V  ile  up  m' 
thinker  'n'  set  'er  goin'.  One  o'  them  kind  hes 


D'RI  AND   I  172 

t'  keep  'is  mouth  shet  er  he  can't  never  dew  no 
thinkin'.  Bymby,  like  es  not,  I  '11  hev  suthin'  t' 
say  et  '11  'mount  t'  suthin'." 

We  lay  back  on  the  straw  in  silence.  I  did 
a  lot  of  thinking  that  brought  me  little  hope. 
Thoughts  of  Louison  and  Louise  soon  led  me 
out  of  prison.  After  a  little  time  I  went  phi 
landering  in  the  groves  of  the  baroness  with 
the  two  incomparable  young  ladies.  I  would 
willingly  have  stood  for  another  bullet  if  I  could 
have  had  another  month  of  their  company.  The 
next  thought  of  my  troubles  came  with  the  open 
ing  of  the  iron  door.  I  had  been  sound  asleep. 
A  guard  came  in  with  water  and  a  pot  of  stewed 
beef  and  potatoes. 

"  Thet  air  's  all  right,"  said  D'ri,  dipping  into 
it  with  a  spoon. 

We  ate  with  a  fine  relish,  the  guard,  a  sullen, 
silent  man  with  a  rough  voice  that  came  out  of 
a  bristling  mustache,  standing  by  the  door. 

"  Luk  a-here,"  said  D'ri  to  the  guard  as  we 
finished  eating,  "I  want  t'  ast  you  a  question. 
Ef  you  hed  a  purty  comf  table  hum  on  t'other 
side,  'n'  tew  thousan'  dollars  'n  the  bank,  'n' 
hosses  'n'  ev'rything  fixed  fer  a  good  time,  'n1 


D'RI  AND    I  173 

all  uv  a  sudden  ye  found  yerself  'n  sech  a  gol- 
dum  dungeon  es  this  here,  what  'u'd  you  dew  ? " 

The  guard  was  fixing  the  wick  of  his  candle, 
and  made  no  answer. 

"Want  ye  t'  think  it  all  over,"  said  D'ri. 
"  See  ef  ye  can't  think  o'  suthin'  soothin'  t'  say. 
God  knows  we  need  it." 

The  guard  went  away  without  answering. 

"Got  him  thinkin',"  said  D'ri,  as  he  lighted 
the  candle.  "He  can  help  us  some,  mebbe. 
Would  n't  wonder  ef  he  was  good  et  cipherin'." 

"  If  he  offered  to  take  the  two  thousand,  I 
don't  see  how  we'd  give  it  to  him,"  said  I. 
"  He  would  n't  take  our  promise  for  it." 

"  Thet  am'  a-goin'  t'  bother  us  any,"  said 
D'ri.  "  Hed  thet  all  figgered  out  long  ago." 

He  gave  me  the  candle  and  lay  down,  hold 
ing  his  ear  close  to  the  stone  floor  and  listening. 
Three  times  he  shifted  his  ear  from  one  point 
to  another.  Then  he  beckoned  to  me. 

"  Jest  hoi'  yer  ear  there  'n'  listen,"  he  whis 
pered. 

I  gave  him  the  candle,  and  with  my  ear  Jo 
the  floor  I  could  hear  the  flow  of  water  below 
us.  The  sound  went  away  in  the  distance  and 


D'RI  AND   I  174 

then  out  of  hearing.  After  a  while  it  came 
again. 

"  What  does  it  mean  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Cipherin'  a  leetle  over  thet  air,"  said  he, 
as  he  made  a  long  scratch  on  the  floor  with 
his  flint.  Then  he  rubbed  his  chin,  looking 
down  at  it.  "  Hain'  jest  eggzac'ly  med  up  my 
mind  yit,"  he  added. 

We  blew  out  the  light  and  lay  back,  whis 
pering.  Then  presently  we  heard  the  coming 
of  footsteps.  Two  men  came  to  the  door  with 
a  candle,  one  being  the  guard  we  knew. 

"Come,  young  fellow,"  said  the  latter,  as  he 
unlocked  the  door  and  beckoned  to  me;  "they 
want  you  upstairs." 

We  both  got  to  our  feet. 

"  Not  you,"  he  growled,  waving  D'ri  back. 
"  Not  ready  fer  you  yet." 

He  laid  hold  of  my  elbow  and  snapped  a 
shackle  on  my  wrist.  Then  they  led  me  out, 
closing  the  door  with  a  bang  that  echoed  in  the 
far  reaches  of  the  dark  alley,  and  tied  a  thick 
cloth  over  my  eyes. 

"Good  luck!"  D'ri  cried  out  as  they  took 
me  away. 


D'RI  AND   I  175 

"  For  both,"  I  answered  as  cheerfully  as  I 
could. 

They  led  me  through  winding  passages  and 
iron  doors,  with  that  horrible  clank  of  the 
prison  latch,  and  up  nights  of  stone  till  I  felt 
as  lost  as  one  might  who  falls  whirling  in  the 
air  from  a  great  height.  We  soon  came  out 
upon  a  walk  of  gravel,  where  I  could  feel  the 
sweet  air  blowing  into  my  face.  A  few  min 
utes  more  and  we  halted,  where  the  guard,  who 
had  hold  of  my  elbow,  rang  a  bell.  As  the  door 
swung  open  they  led  me  in  upon  a  soft  carpet. 
Through  the  cloth  I  could  see  a  light. 

"  Bring  him  in,  bring  him  in  !  "  a  voice  com 
manded  impatiently  —  a  deep,  heavy  voice  the 
sound  of  which  I  have  not  yet  forgotten.  The 
guard  was  afraid  of  it.  His  hand  trembled  as 
he  led  me  on. 

"  Take  off  the  blindfold,"  said  that  voice  again. 

As  it  fell  away,  I  found  myself  in  a  large  and 
beautiful  room.  My  eyes  were  dazzled  by  the 
light  of  many  candles,  and  for  a  little  I  had  to 
close  them.  I  stood  before  two  men.  One  sal; 
facing  me  at  a  black  table  of  carved  oak  —  a 
man  of  middle  age,  in  the  uniform  of  a  British 


D'RI  AND   I  176 

general.  Stout  and  handsome,  with  brown  eyes, 
dark  hair  and  mustache  now  half  white,  and 
nose  aquiline  by  the  least  turn,  he  impressed 
me  as  have  few  men  that  ever  crossed  my  path. 
A  young  man  sat  lounging  easily  in  a  big  chair 
beside  him,  his  legs  crossed,  his  delicate  fingers 
teasing  a  thin  mustache.  I  noticed  that  his 
hands  were  slim  and  hairy.  He  glanced  up  at 
me  as  soon  as  I  could  bear  the  light.  Then  he 
sat  looking  idly  at  the  carpet. 

The  silence  of  the  room  was  broken  only  by 
the  scratch  of  a  quill  in  the  hand  of  the  general. 
I  glanced  about  me.  On  the  wall  was  a  large 
painting  that  held  my  eye:  there  was  some 
thing  familiar  in  the  face.  I  saw  presently  it 
was  that  of  the  officer  I  had  fought  in  the 
woods,  the  one  who  fell  before  me.  I  turned 
my  head ;  the  young  man  was  looking  up  at  me. 
A  smile  had  parted  his  lips.  They  were  the 
lips  of  a  rake,  it  seemed  to  me.  A  fine  set  of 
teeth  showed  between  them. 

"  Do  you  know  him  ?  "  he  asked  coolly. 

"  I  have  not  the  honor,"  was  my  reply. 

"  What  is  your  name?"  the  general  demanded 
in  the  deep  tone  I  had  heard  before. 


D'RI  AND    I  177 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  the  young  man,  quietly, 
as  if  he  were  now  weary  of  the  matter,  "  I  do 
not  think  it  necessary." 

There  was  a  bit  of  silence.  The  general 
looked  thoughtfully  at  the  young  man. 

"If  your  Lordship  will  let  me — "  he  went  on. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  the  other  interrupted,  in  the 
same  weary  and  lethargic  manner,  "  I  can  get 
more  reliable  knowledge  from  other  sources. 
Let  the  fellow  go  back." 

"  That  will  do,"  said  the  general  to  the  guard, 
who  then  covered  my  eyes  and  led  me  back  to 
prison. 

Lying  there  in  the  dark,  I  told  D'ri  all  I  knew 
of  my  mysterious  journey.  My  account  of  the 
young  man  roused  him  to  the  soul. 

"  Wha'  kind  uv  a  nose  hed  he?"  he  inquired. 

"  Roman,"  I  said. 

"  Bent  in  at  the  p'int  a  leetle  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  And  black  hair  shingled  short  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"An'  tall,  an'  a  kind  uv  a  nasty,  snookiri', 
mis'able-lookin'  cuss  ?  " 

"  Just  about  the  look  of  him,"  I  said. 


D'RI  AND   I  178 

"Judas  Priest!  He's  one  o'  them  sneks  et 
tuk  me  when  you  was  fightin'  t'  other  feller  over 
there  'n  the  woods." 

"  Looks  rather  bad  for  us,"  I  remarked. 

"  Does  hev  a  ruther  squeaky  luk  tew  it,"  said 
he.  "  All  we  got  t'  dew  is  t'  keep  breathin'  jest 
es  nat'ral  'n'  easy  es  can  be  till  we  fergit  how. 
May  fool  'em  fust  they  know." 

I  had  a  high  notion,  those  days,  of  the  duty 
of  a  soldier.  My  father  had  always  told  me 
there  was  no  greater  glory  for  anybody  than 
that  of  a  brave  death.  Somehow  the  feeling 
got  to  be  part  of  me.  While  I  had  little  fear 
of  death,  I  dreaded  to  be  shot  like  a  felon.  But 
I  should  be  dying  for  my  country,  and  that  feel 
ing  seemed  to  light  the  shadows.  When  I  fell 
asleep,  after  much  worry,  it  was  to  dream  of 
my  three  countrymen  who  had  fallen  to  their 
faces  there  by  the  corn.  I  awoke  to  find  the 
guard  in  our  cell,  and  D'ri  and  he  whispering 
together.  He  had  come  with  our  breakfast. 

"  All  I  want,"  D'ri  was  saying,  "  is  a  piece  of 
iron,  with  a  sharp  end,  half  es  long  es  yer  arm." 

He  made  no  answer,  that  big,  sullen,  bull-dog 
man  who  brought  our  food  to  us.  When  he  had 


D'RI  AND    I 


179 


gone,  D'ri  lay  over  and  began  laughing  under 
his  breath. 

"  His  thinker  's  goin'  luk  a  sawmill,"  he  whis 
pered.  "  Would  n't  wonder  ef  it  kep'  'im  awake 
nights.  He  was  askin'  'bout  thet  air  tew  thou- 
san'  dollars.  Ef  they'll  let  us  alone  fer  three 
days,  we  '11  be  out  o'  here.  Now,  you  mark  my 
word." 

"  How  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"Jest  a  leetle  job  o'  slidin'  downhill,"  he  said, 
"  There's  a  big  drain-pipe  goes  under  this  cell 
—  t'  the  river,  prob'ly.  He  says  it 's  bigger  'n 
a  barrel." 

We  saved  our  candle  that  day,  and  walked 
up  and  down,  from  wall  to  wall,  for  exercise. 
Our  hopes  were  high  when  we  heard  footsteps, 
but  they  fell  suddenly,  for,  as  we  listened,  we 
could  hear  the  tramp  of  a  squad  of  men.  They 
came  to  our  cell,  and  took  us  upstairs,  blind 
folded  as  before,  to  a  bath-room,  where  the 
uniforms,  discarded  the  day  of  our  capture, 
were  waiting  for  us,  newly  pressed.  Our  bath 
over,  they  directed  us  to  put  them  on.  They 
gave  us  new  hats,  for  our  own  had  been  lost 
the  night  of  the  wreck,  covered  our  eyes,  and 


D'RI  AND   I  1 80 

led  us  through  many  doors  and  alleys  into  the 
open  air.  It  was  dark,  I  knew,  for  as  we 
entered  a  carriage  I  could  see  dimly  the  glow 
of  a  lantern  hanging  over  the  wheel.  The 
carriage  went  away  swiftly  on  a  level  road. 
We  sat  knee  to  knee,  with  two  men  facing  us, 
and  not  a  word  was  spoken.  We  could  hear 
hoofs  falling,  the  rattle  of  bit  and  rein,  the 
creak  of  saddle-leather  on  each  side  of  us.  We 
must  have  gone  a  long  journey  when  the  car 
riage  halted.  They  pulled  us  out  roughly  and 
led  us  up  three  steps  and  across  a  deep  veranda. 
A  bell  rang,  a  door  swung  open,  a  flood  of 
light  fell  on  us,  filtering  to  our  eyes.  Entering, 
we  could  feel  a  carpet  under  us,  and  took  a 
dozen  paces  or  more  before  they  bade  us  halt. 
We  heard  only  the  low-spoken  order  and  the 
soft  tread  of  our  feet.  There  was  a  dead  silence 
when  they  removed  our  fetters  and  unbound 
our  eyes.  We  were  standing  in  a  big  and 
sumptuous  drawing-room.  A  company  of 
gentlemen  sat  near  us  in  arm-chairs;  there 
were  at  least  a  score  of  them.  Round  tables 
of  old  mahogany  stood  near,  on  which  were 
glasses  and  packs  of  cards  and  wine-bottles. 


D'RI  AND   I  181 

The  young  man  who  sat  with  the  general  and 
answered  to  "  your  Lordship "  was  approach 
ing  me,  hand  extended. 

"  Glad  to  see  you ;  sit  down,"  he  said  in  the 
same  quiet,  languid,  forceful  tone  I  had  heard 
before. 

It  was  all  very  odd.  The  guards  were 
gone ;  we  were  apparently  as  free  as  any  of 
them. 

"  I  shall  try  to  make  you  comfortable,"  he 
remarked.  A  servant  began  filling  a  row  of 
glasses.  "  We  have  here  wine  and  wit  and  all 
the  .  accessories,  including  women.  I  should 
introduce  you,  but  I  have  not  the  honor  of  your 
acquaintance.  Let  it  suffice  to  say  these  are 
my  filends"  (he  turned  to  those  who  sat 
about),  "and,  gentlemen,  these  are  my  enemies," 
he  added,  turning  to  us.  "  Let  us  hope  they 
may  die  happy." 

"And  with  a  fighting  chance,"  I  added, 
lifting  the  glass  without  tasting  it. 

D'ri  sat,  his  brows  lifted,  his  hands  in  his 
pockets,  his  legs  crossed.  He  looked  curiously 
from  one  to  another. 

"  Horton,"  said  his  Lordship,  as  he  sat  down, 


D'RI  AND   I  182 

leaning  lazily  on  the  arm  of  his  chair,  "  will 
you  have  them  bring  down  the  prisoners  ? " 

The  servant  left  the  room.  Some  of  the  men 
were  talking  together  in  low  tones ;  they  were 
mostly  good-looking  and  well  dressed. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  his  Lordship,  rising  sud 
denly,  <:  I'm  going  to  turn  you  out  of  here  for 
a  moment  —  they're  a  shy  lot.  Won't  you  go 
into  the  library  ?  " 

They  all  rose  and  went  out  of  a  door  save 
one,  a  bald  man  of  middle  age,  half  tipsy, 
who  begged  of  his  "  Ludship "  the  privilege 
of  remaining. 

"  Sir  Charles,"  said  the  young  man,  still 
lounging  in  his  chair  as  he  spoke,  in  that 
cold,  calm  tone  of  his,  "you  annoy  me.  Go 
at  once ! "  and  he  went. 

They  covered  our  faces  with  napkins  of  white 
linen.  Then  we  heard  heavy  steps,  the  clank 
of  scabbards  on  a  stairway,  the  feet  of  ladies, 
and  the  swish  of  their  gowns.  With  a  quick 
movement  our  faces  were  uncovered.  I  rose 
to  my  feet,  for  there  before  me  stood  Louison 
and  the  Baroness  de  Ferre,  between  two  guards, 
and,  behind  them,  Louise,  her  eyes  covered,  her 


"  Come,  now,  my  pretty  prisoner  ;  it  is  disagree 
able,  but  yon  must  forgive  me." 


D'RI  AND   1  183 

beautiful  head  bent  low.  I  could  see  that  she 
was  crying.  The  truth  came  to  me  in  a  flash 
of  thought.  They  had  been  taken  after  we 
left;  they  were  prisoners  brought  here  to 
identify  us.  A  like  quickness  of  perception 
had  apparently  come  to  all.  We  four  stood 
looking  at  one  another  with  no  sign  of  recogni 
tion.  My  face  may  have  shown  the  surprise 
and  horror  in  me,  but  shortly  I  had  recovered 
my  stony  calm.  The  ladies  were  dressed 
finely,  with  the  taste  and  care  I  had  so  much 
admired.  Louison  turned  away  from  me  with 
a  splendid  dignity  and  stood  looking  up  at  the 
wall,  her  hands  behind  her,  a  toe  of  one  shoe 
tapping  the  floor  impatiently.  It  was  a  picture 
to  remember  a  lifetime.  I  could  feel  my  pulse 
quicken  as  I  looked  upon  her.  The  baroness 
stood,  sober-faced,  her  eyes  looking  down,  her 
fan  moving  slowly.  His  Lordship  rose  and 
came  to  Louise. 

"  Come,  now,  my  pretty  prisoner ;  it  is  dis 
agreeable,  but  you  must  forgive  me,"  he  said. 

She  turned  away  from  him,  drying  her  eyes. 
Then  presently  their  beauty  shone  upon  me. 

"  Grace  au  ciel !  "  she  exclaimed,  a  great  joy 


D'RI  AND   I  184 

in  her  eyes  and  voice.  "  It  is  M'sieur  Bell. 
Sister  —  baroness  —  it  is  M'sieur  Bell!" 

I  advanced  to  meet  her,  and  took  her  hand, 
kissing  it  reverently.  She  covered  her  face, 
her  hand  upon  my  shoulder,  and  wept  in 
silence.  If  it  meant  my  death,  I  should  die 
thanking  God  I  knew,  or  thought  I  knew,  that 
she  loved  me. 

"  Ah,  yes  ;  it  is  M'sieur  Bell  —  poor  fellow  !  " 
said  Louison,  coming  quickly  to  me.  "  And 
you,  my  dear,  you  are  Ma'm'selle  Louise." 

She  spoke  quickly  in  French,  as  if  quite  out 
of  patience  with  the  poor  diplomacy  of  her  sister. 

"  I  knew  it  was  you,  for  I  saw  the  emerald 
on  your  finger,"  she  added,  turning  to  me, 
"but  I  could  not  tell  her." 

"  I  am  glad,  I  am  delighted,  that  she  spoke 
to  me,"  I  said.  I  desired  to  save  the  fair  girl, 
whose  heart  was  ever  as  a  child's,  any  sorrow 
for  what  she  had  done.  "  I  was  about  to  speak 
myself.  It  is  so  great  a  pleasure  to  see  you  all 
I  could  not  longer  endure  silence." 

"  They  made  us  prisoners ;  they  bring  us 
here.  Oh,  m'sieur,  it  is  terrible!"  said  the 
baroness. 


D'RI  AND   I  185 

"  And  he  is  such  a  horrible-looking  mon 
key  ! "  said  Louison. 

"  Do  they  treat  you  well  ?  "  I  asked. 

"We  have  a  big  room  and  enough  to  eat. 
It  is  not  a  bad  prison,  but  it  is  one  terrible 
place,"  said  the  baroness.  "  There  is  a  big 
wall;  we  cannot  go  beyond  it." 

"  And  that  hairy  thing !  He  is  in  love  with 
Louise.  He  swears  he  will  never  let  us  go," 
said  Louison,  in  a  whisper,  as  she  came  close 
to  me,  "unless  —  unless  she  will  marry  him." 

"Ah!  a  tea-party,"  said  his  Lordship,  com 
ing  toward  us.  "  Pardon  the  interruption.  I 
have  promised  to  return  these  men  at  nine. 
It  is  now  ten  minutes  of  the  hour.  Ladies,  I 
wish  you  all  a  very  good  night." 

He  bowed  politely.  They  pressed  my  hand, 
leaving  me  with  such  anxiety  in  their  faces 
that  I  felt  it  more  than  my  own  peril.  Louison 
gave  me  a  tender  look  out  of  her  fine  eyes,  and 
the  thought  of  it  was  a  light  to  my  soul  in 
many  an  hour  of  darkness.  She  had  seemed 
so  cool,  so  nonchalant,  I  was  surprised  to  feel 
the  tremor  in  her  nerves.  I  knew  not  words  to 
say  when  Louise  took  my  hand. 


D'Rl  AND  I  186 

"  Forgive  me  —  good-by  !  "  said  she. 

It  was  a  faint  whisper  out  of  trembling  lips. 
I  could  see  her  soul  in  her  face  then.  It  was 
lighted  with  trouble  and  a  nobler  beauty  than 
I  had  ever  seen.  It  was  full  of  tenderness  and 
pity  and  things  I  could  not  understand. 

"  Have  courage ! "  I  called  as  they  went 
away. 

I  was  never  in  such  a  fierce  temper  as  when, 
after  they  had  gone  above-stairs,  I  could  hear 
one  of  them  weeping.  D'ri  stood  quietly  beside 
me,  his  arms  folded. 

"  Whut  ye  goin'  t'  dew  with  them  air  women?  " 
he  asked,  turning  to  the  young  man. 

"  I  beg  you  will  give  me  time  to  consider," 
said  his  Lordship,  calmly,  as  he  lighted  a 
cigarette. 

There  was  a  quick  move  in  the  big  tower  of 
bone  and  muscle  beside  me.  I  laid  hold  of 
D'ri's  elbow  and  bade  him  stop,  or  I  fear  his 
Lordship's  drawing-room,  his  Lordship,  and 
ourselves  would  presently  have  had  some  need 
of  repair.  Four  guards  who  seemed  to  be  wait 
ing  in  the  hall  entered  hurriedly,  the  shackles 
in  hand. 


D'RI  AND    I  187 

"  No  haste,"  said  his  Lordship,  more  pleas 
antly  than  ever.  "  Stand  by  and  wait  my 
orders." 

"  D'  ye  wan'  t'  know  whut  I  think  o'  you  ?  " 
said  D'ri,  looking  down  at  him,  his  eyes 
opening  wide,  his  brow  wrinkling  into  long 
furrows. 

"I  make  a  condition,"  said  his  Lordship:  "do 
not  natter  me." 

"  Yer  jest  a  low-lived,  mis'able,  wuthless 
pup,"  said  D'ri. 

"  Away  with  them  !  "  said  his  Lordship,  flick 
ing  the  ashes  off  a  cigarette  as  he  rose  and 
walked  hurriedly  out  of  the  room. 


XIII  i88 

HE  waiting  guards  laid  hold  of 
us  in  a  twinkling,  and  others 
came  crowding  the  doors.  They 
shackled  our  hands  behind  us, 
and  covered  our  eyes  again. 
Dark  misgivings  of  what  was  to  come  filled  me, 
but  I  bore  all  in  silence.  They  shoved  us 
roughly  out  of  doors,  and  there  I  could  tell  they 
were  up  to  no  child's  play.  A  loud  jeer  burst 
from  the  mouths  of  many  as  we  came  stagger 
ing  out.  I  could  hear  the  voices  of  a  crowd. 
They  hurried  us  into  a  carriage. 

"We  demand  the  prisoners  !  "  a  man  shouted 
near  me. 

Then  I  could  hear  them  scuffling  with  the 
guards,  who,  I  doubt  not,  were  doing  their  best 
to  hold  them  back.  In  a  moment  I  knew  the 
mob  had  possession  of  us  and  the  soldiers  were 
being  hustled  away.  D'ri  sat  shoulder  to 


D'RI  AND   I  189 

shoulder  with  me.  I  could  feel  his  muscles 
tighten  ;  I  could  hear  the  cracking  of  his  joints 
and  the  grinding  of  the  shackle-chain.  "Judas 
Pr-r-i-e-st !  "  he  grunted,  straining  at  the  iron. 
Two  men  leaped  into  the  carriage.  There  was 
a  crack  of  the  whip,  and  the  horses  went  off 
bounding.  We  could  hear  horsemen  all  about 
us  and  wagons  following.  I  had  a  stout  heart 
in  me  those  days,  but  in  all  my  life  I  had  never 
taken  a  ride  so  little  to  my  liking.  We  went 
over  rough  roads,  up  hill  and  down,  for  an  hour 
or  more. 

I  could  see  in  prospect  no  better  destination 
than  our  graves,  and,  indeed,  I  was  not  far 
wrong.  Well,  by  and  by  we  came  to  a  town 
somewhere  —  God  knows  where.  I  have  never 
seen  it,  or  known  the  name  of  it,  or  even  that 
of  the  prison  where  we  were  first  immured.  I 
could  tell  it  was  a  town  by  the  rumble  of  the 
wheels  and  each  echoing  hoof -beat.  The  caval 
cade  was  all  about  us,  and  now  and  then  we 
could  hear  the  sound  of  voices  far  behind.  The 
procession  slowed  up,  horsemen  jammed  to  the 
left  of  us,  the  carriage  halted.  I  could  hear 
footsteps  on  a  stone  pavement. 


D'RI  AND   I  190 

"  You  're  late,"  said  a  low  voice  at  the  carriage 
door.  "  It 's  near  eleven." 

"  Lot  o'  fooling  with  the  candidates,"  said  one 
of  the  horsemen,  quietly.  "  Everything  ready  ?  " 

"  Everything  ready,"  was  the  answer. 

The  carriage  door  swung  open. 

"  We  get  out  here,"  said  one  of  the  men  who 
sat  with  us. 

I  alighted.  On  each  side  of  me  somebody 
put  his  hand  to  my  shoulder.  I  could  see  the 
glow  of  a  lantern-light  close  to  my  face.  I 
knew  there  was  a  crowd  of  men  around,  but  I 
could  hear  nothing  save  now  and  then  a 
whisper. 

"Wall,  Ray,"  said  D'ri,  who  stood  by  my 
side,  "hoi'  stiddy  'n'  don't  be  scairt." 

"  Do  as  they  tell  ye,"  a  stranger  whispered 
in  my  ear.  "  No  matter  what  't  is,  do  as  they 
tell  ye." 

They  led  us  into  a  long  passage  and  up  a 
steep  flight  of  wooden  stairs.  I  have  learned 
since  then  it  was  a  building  equipped  by  a  well- 
known  secret  society  for  its  initiations.1  We 

iThe  intrepid  Fitzgibbon,  the  most  daring  leader  on  the 
Canadian  frontier  those  days,  told  me  long  afterward  that  he 


D'RI  AND    I 


191 


went  on  through  a  narrow  hall  and  up  a  winding 
flight  that  seemed  to  me  interminable.  Above 
it,  as  we  stopped,  the  man  who  was  leading  me 
rapped  thrice  upon  a  rattling  wooden  door.  It 
broke  the  silence  with  a  loud  echoing  noise.  I 
could  hear  then  the  sliding  of  a  panel  and  a 
faint  whispering  and  the  sound  of  many  feet 
ascending  the  stairs  below.  The  door  swung 
open  presently,  and  we  were  led  in  where  I 
could  see  no  sign  of  any  light.  They  took  me 
alone  across  a  wide  bare  floor,  where  they  set  me 
down  upon  some  sort  of  platform  and  left  me, 
as  I  thought.  Then  I  could  hear  the  whispered 
challenge  at  the  door  and  one  after  another 
entering  and  crossing  the  bare  floor  on  tiptoe. 
Hundreds  were  coming  in,  it  seemed  to  me. 

knew  the  building  —  a  tall  frame  structure  on  the  high  shore  of 
a  tributary  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  It  was  built  on  a  side  of  the 
bluff  and  used  originally  as  a  depot  for  corn,  oats,  rye,  and 
potatoes,  that  came  down  the  river  in  bateaux.  The  slide  was 
a  slanting  box  through  which  the  sacks  of  grain  were  conveyed 
to  sloops  and  schooners  below.  It  did  not  pay  and  was  soon 
abandoned,  whereupon  it  was  rented  by  the  secret  order  referred 
to  above.  The  slide  bottom  was  coated  with  lard  and  used  for 
the  hazing  of  candidates.  A  prize  fight  on  the  platform  *was 
generally  a  feature  of  the  entertainment.  A  man  was  severely 
injured  in  a  leap  on  the  bayonets,  after  which  that  feature  of 
the  initiation  was  said  to  have  been  abandoned. 


D'RI  AND   I  192 

Suddenly  a  deep  silence  fell  in  that  dark  place 
of  evil.  The  blindfold  went  whisking  off  my 
head  as  if  a  ghostly  hand  had  taken  it.  But  all 
around  me  was  the  darkness  of  the  pit.  I  could 
see  and  I  could  hear  nothing  but  a  faint  whisper, 
high  above  me,  like  that  of  pine  boughs  moving 
softly  in  a  light  breeze.  I  could  feel  the  air 
upon  my  face.  I  thought  I  must  have  been 
moved  out  of  doors  by  some  magic.  It  seemed 
as  if  I  were  sitting  under  trees  alone.  Out  of 
the  black  silence  an  icy  hand  fell  suddenly  upon 
my  brow.  I  flinched,  feeling  it  move  slowly 
downward  over  my  shoulder.  I  could  hear  no 
breathing,  no  rustle  of  garments  near  me.  In 
that  dead  silence  I  got  a  feeling  that  the  hand 
touching  me  had  no  body  behind  it.  I  was  be 
yond  the  reach  of  fear  —  I  was  in  a  way  pre 
pared  for  anything  but  the  deep,  heart-shaking 
horror  that  sank  under  the  cold,  damp  touch  of 
those  fingers.  They  laid  hold  of  my  elbow 
firmly,  lifting  as  if  to  indicate  that  I  was  to  rise. 
I  did  so,  moving  forward  passively  as  it  drew 
me  on.  To  my  astonishment  I  was  unable  to 
hear  my  own  footfall  or  that  of  my  conductor. 
I  thought  we  were  walking  upon  soft  earth. 


D'RI  AND   I  193 

Crossing  our  path  in  front  of  me  I  could  see,  in 
the  darkness,  a  gleaming  line.  We  moved 
slowly,  standing  still  as  our  toes  covered  it. 
Then  suddenly  a  light  flashed  from  before  and 
below  us.  A  cold  sweat  came  out  upon  me  ;  I 
staggered  back  to  strong  hands  that  were  laid 
upon  my  shoulders,  forcing  me  to  the  line 
again.  By  that  flash  of  light  I  could  see  that  I 
was  standing  on  the  very  brink  of  some  black 
abyss  —  indeed,  my  toes  had  crossed  the  edge 
of  it.  The  light  came  again,  flickering  and 
then  settling  into  a  steady  glow.  The  opening 
seemed  to  have  a  grassy  bottom  some  ten  feet 
below.  In  front  of  me  the  soil  bristled,  on  that 
lower  level,  with  some  black  and  pointed  plant : 
there  was  at  least  a  score  of  them.  As  I  looked, 
I  saw  they  were  not  plants,  but  a  square  of 
bayonets  thrust,  points  up,  in  the  ground.  A 
curse  came  out  of  my  hot  mouth,  and  then  a 
dozen  voices  mocked  it,  going  fainter,  like  a 
dying  echo.  I  heard  a  whisper  in  my  ear.  A 
tall  figure  in  a  winding-sheet,  its  face  covered, 
was  leaning  over  me.  * 

"To  hesitate  is  to  die,"  it  whispered.     "  Cour 
age  may  save  you." 


D'RI  AND   I  194 

Then  a  skeleton  hand  came  out  of  the  wind 
ing-sheet,  pointing  down  at  the  square  of  bris 
tling  bayonets.  The  figure  put  its  mouth  to  my 
ear. 

"Jump!"  it  whispered,  and  the  bare  bones 
of  the  dead  fingers  stirred  impatiently. 

Some  seconds  of  a  brief  silence  followed.  I 
could  hear  them  slowly  dripping  out  of  eternity 
in  the  tick  of  a  watch  near  me.  I  felt  the  stare 
of  many  eyes  invisible  to  me.  A  broad  beam  of 
bright  light  shot  through  the  gloom,  resting  full 
upon  my  face.  I  started  back  upon  the  strong 
hands  behind  me.  Then  I  felt  my  muscles 
tighten  as  I  began  to  measure  the  fall  and  to 
wonder  if  I  could  clear  the  bayonets.  I  had  no 
doubt  I  was  to  die  shortly,  and  it  mattered  not 
to  me  how,  bound  as  I  was,  so  that  it  came  soon. 
For  a  breath  of  silence  my  soul  went  up  to  the 
feet  of  God  for  help  and  hope.  Then  I  bent 
my  knees  and  leaped.  I  saw  much  as  my  body 
went  rushing  through  the  air  —  an  empty  grave 
its  heap  of  earth  beside  it,  an  island  of  light, 
walled  with  candles,  in  a  sea  of  gloom,  faces 
showing  dimly  in  the  edge  of  the  darkness. 
"Thank  God!  I  shall  clear  the  bayonets,"  I 


D'RI  AND   I  195 

thought,  and  struck  heavily  upon  a  soft  mat, 
covered  over  with  green  turf,  a  little  beyond  that 
bristling  bed.  I  staggered  backward,  falling 
upon  it.  To  my  surprise,  it  bent  beneath  me. 
They  were  no  bayonets,  but  only  shells  of 
painted  paper.  I  got  to  my  feet  none  the  worse 
for  jumping,  and  as  dumfounded  as  ever  a  man 
could  be.  I  stood  on  a  lot  of  broken  turf 
with  which  a  wide  floor  had  been  overlaid. 
Boards  and  timbers  were  cut  away,  and  the 
grave  dug  beneath  them.  I  saw  one  face 
among  others  in  the  gloom  beyond  the  candle 
rows  —  that  of  his  Lordship.  He  was  coming 
up  a  little  flight  of  stairs  to  where  I  stood.  He 
moved  the  candles,  making  a  small  passage,  and 
came  up  to  me. 

"  You're  a  brave  man,"  said  he,  in  that  low, 
careless  tone  of  his. 

"  And  you  a  coward,"  was  my  answer,  for  the 
sight  of  him  had  made  me  burn  with  anger. 

"  Don't  commit  yourself  on  a  point  like  that," 
said  he,  quickly,  "  for,  you  know,  we  are  not 
well  acquainted.  I  like  your  pluck,  and  I  offer 
you  what  is  given  to  few  here  —  an  explanation." 

He   paused,    lighting   a   cigarette-      I    stood 


D'RI  AND   I  196 

looking  at  him.  The  cold  politeness  of  manner 
with  which  he  had  taken  my  taunt,  his  perfect 
self-mastery,  filled  me  with  wonder.  He  was  no 
callow  youth,  that  man,  whoever  he  might  be. 
He  was  boring  at  the  floor  with  the  end  of  a 
limber  cane  as  he  continued  to  address  me. 

"  Now,  look  here,"  he  went  on,  with  a  little 
gesture  of  his  left  hand,  between  the  fingers  of 
which  a  cigarette  was  burning.  "  You  are  now 
in  the  temple  of  a  patriotic  society  acting  with 
no  letters  patent,  but  in  the  good  cause  of  his 
Most  Excellent  Majesty  King  George  III,  to 
whom  be  health  and  happiness." 

As  he  spoke  the  name  he  raised  his  hat,  and 
a  cheer  came  from  all  sides  of  us. 

"  It  is  gathered  this  night,"  he  continued,  "to 
avenge  the  death  of  Lord  Ronley,  a  friend  of 
his  Majesty,  and  of  many  here  present,  and  an 
honored  member  of  this  order.  For  his  death 
you,  and  you  alone,  are  responsible,  and,  we 
suspect,  under  circumstances  of  no  credit  to 
your  sword.  Many  of  our  people  have  been 
cut  off  from  their  comrades  and  slain  by 
cowardly  stealth,  have  been  led  into  ambush 
and  cruelly  cut  to  pieces  by  an  overwhelming 


D'RI  AND    I  197 

number,  have  been  shut  in  prison  and  done  to 
death  by  starvation  or  by  stabs  of  a  knife  there 
in  your  country.  Not  content  with  the  weapons 
of  a  soldier,  you  have  even  resorted  to  the  bar 
barity  of  the  poison-wasp.  Pardon  me,  but  you 
Yankees  do  not  seem  to  have  any  mercy  or  fair 
ness  for  a  foe.  We  shall  give  you  better  treat 
ment.  You  shall  not  be  killed  like  a  rat  in  a 
trap.  You  shall  have  a  chance  for  your  life. 
Had  you  halted,  had  you  been  a  coward,  you 
would  not  have  been  worthy  to  fight  in  this 
arena.  You  would  not  have  come  where  you 
are  standing,  and  possibly  even  now  your  grave 
would  have  been  filled.  If  you  survive  the 
ordeal  that  is  to  come,  I  hope  it  will  prove  an 
example  to  you  of  the  honor  that  is  due  to  brav 
ery,  of  the  fairness  due  a  foe." 

Many  voices  spoke  the  word  "  Amen  "  as  he 
stopped,  turning  to  beckon  into  the  gloom 
about  us.  I  was  now  quite  over  my  confusion. 
I  began  to  look  about  me  and  get  my  bearings. 
I  could  hear  a  stir  in  the  crowd  beyond  the 
lights,  and  a  murmur  of  voices.  Reflecting 
lanterns  from  many  pillars  near  by  shot  their 
rays  upon  me.  I  stood  on  a  platform,  some 


D'RI  AND   I  198 

thirty  feet  square,  in  the  middle  of  a  large  room. 
Its  floor  was  on  a  level  with  the  faces  of  the 
many  who  stood  pressing  to  the  row  of  lights. 
Here,  I  took  it,  I  was  to  fight  for  my  life.  I 
was  looking  at  the  yawning  grave  in  the  corner 
of  this  arena,  when  four  men  ascended  with 
swords  and  pistols.  One  of  them  removed  the 
shackles,  letting  my  hands  free.  I  thanked 
him  as  he  tossed  them  aside.  I  was  thinking 
of  D'ri,  and,  shading  my  eyes,  looked  off  in  the 
gloom  to  see  if  I  could  discover  him.  I  called 
his  name,  but  heard  no  answer.  His  Lordship 
came  over  to  me,  bringing  a  new  sword.  He  held 
the  glittering  blade  before  me,  its  hilt  in  his  right 
hand,  its  point  resting  on  the  fingers  of  his  left. 
"It's  good,"  said  he,  quietly;  "try  it." 
It  was  a  beautiful  weapon,  its  guard  and 
pommel  and  quillons  sparkling  with  wrought- 
silver,  its  grip  of  yellow  leather  laced  with  blue 
silk.  The  glow  and  the  feel  of  it  filled  me  with 
a  joy  I  had  not  known  since  my  father  gave 
me  the  sword  of  my  childhood.  It  drove  the 
despair  out  of  me,  and  I  was  a  new  man.  I 
tried  the  blade,  its  point  upon  my  toe.  It  was 
good  metal,  and  the  grip  fitted  me. 


D'RI  AND    I  199 

"  Well,  how  do  you  find  it  ? "  said  he,  impa 
tiently. 

"  I  am  satisfied,"  was  my  reply. 

He  helped  me  take  off  my  blouse  and  waist 
coat,  and  then  I  rolled  my  sleeves  to  the  elbow. 
The  hum  of  voices  had  grown  louder.  I  could 
hear  men  offering  to  bet  and  others  bantering 
for  odds. 

"We'll  know  soon,"  said  a  voice  near  me, 
"whether  he  could  have  killed  Ronley  in  a 
fair  fight." 

I  turned  to  look  at  those  few  in  the  arena. 
There  were  half  a  dozen  of  them  now,  surround 
ing  my  adversary,  a  man  taller  than  the  rest, 
with  a  heavy  neck  and  brawny  arms  and 
shoulders.  He  had  come  out  of  the  crowd 
unobserved  by  me.  He  also  was  stripped  to 
the  shirt,  and  had  rolled  up  his  sleeves,  and  was 
trying  the  steel.  He  had  a  red,  bristling  mus 
tache  and  overhanging  brows  and  a  vulgar  face 
—  not  that  of  a  man  who  settles  his  quarrel 
with  the  sword.  I  judged  a  club  or  a  dagger 
would  have  been  better  suited  to  his  geiyus 
But,  among  fighters,  it  is  easy  to  be  fooled  by 
a  face.  In  a  moment  the  others  had  gone  save 


D'RI  AND   I  200 

his  Lordship  and  that  portly  bald-headed  man 
I  had  heard  him  rebuke  as  "  Sir  Charles."  My 
adversary  met  me  at  the  centre  of  the  arena, 
where  we  shook  hands.  I  could  see,  or  thought 
I  could,  that  he  was  entering  upon  a  business 
new  to  him,  for  there  was  in  his  manner  an 
indication  of  unsteady  nerves. 

"  Gentlemen,  are  you  ready  ?  "  said  his  Lord 
ship. 

But  there  are  reasons  why  the  story  of  what 
came  after  should  be  none  of  my  telling.  I 
leave  it  to  other  and  better  eyes  that  were  not 
looking  between  flashes  of  steel,  as  mine  were. 
And  then  one  has  never  a  fair  view  of  his  own 
fights. 


XIV  201 

HIS  is  the  story  of  CorporaV 
Darius  Olin,  touching  his  ad 
venture  in  the  Temple  of  the 
Avengers,  at  some  unknown 
place  in  Upper  Canada,  on  the 
night  of  August  12,  1813,  and  particularly  the 
ordeals  of  the  sword,  the  slide,  and  the  bayonet 
to  which  Captain  Ramon  Bell  was  subjected 
that  night,  as  told  to  Adjutant  Asarius  Church, 
at  Sackett's  Harbor,  New  York  :  — 

"  Soon  es  I  see  whut  wus  up,  I  gin  a  power 
ful  lift  on  thet  air  shackle-chain.  I  felt  'er  give 
'n'  bust.  A  couple  o'  men  clim'  hit'  the  seat 
front  uv  us,  'n'  the  hosses  started  hell  bent.  I 
sot  up  with  my  hands  'hind  uv  me  'n  the  wagin. 
I  kep'  'em  there  tight  'n'  stiff,  es  ef  the  iron  wus 
holdin'  uv  'em.  Could  n't  git  no  chance  t'  say 
nuthin'  t'  Ray.  Hustled  us  upstairs,  'n'  whan 
we  come  in  t'  thet  air  big  room  they  tuk  him 
one  way  an'  me  'nother. 


D'RI  AND   I  202 

"  Did  n't  hev  no  idee  where  I  wus.  Felt  'em 
run  a  chain  through  my  arms,  careful,  efter 
they  sot  me  down.  I  sot  still  fer  mebbe  five 
minutes.  Seemed  so  ev'rybody  'd  gone  out  o' 
the  place.  Could  n't  hear  nuthin'  nowhere.  I 
le'  down  the  chain  jest  es  ca-areful  es  I  could, 
'n'  tuk  off  the  blindfold.  'T  was  all  dark; 
could  n't  see  my  hand  afore  me.  Crep'  'long 
the  floor.  See  't  was  covered  with  sawdust. 
Tuk  off  m'  boots,  'n'  got  up  on  m'  feet,  'n' 
walked  careful.  Did  n'  dast  holler  t'  Ray. 
Cal'lated  when  the  squabble  come  I  'd  be  ready 
t'  dew  business.  All  t'  once  I  felt  a  slant  'n 
the  floor.  'T  was  kind  o'  slip'ry,  'n'  I  begun  t' 
slide.  Feet  went  out  from  under  me  'n'  sot  me 
down  quick.  Tried  t'  ketch  holt  o'  suthin'. 
Could  n't  hang  on;  kep'  goin'  faster.  Fust  I 
knew  I  'd  slid  hit'  some  kind  uv  a  box.  Let 
me  down  quicker  'n  scat  over  thet  air  grease  a 
little  ways.  I  out  with  my  tew  hands  'n'  bore 
ag'in'  the  sides  o'  th'  box  powerful  'n'  stopped 
myself.  Then  I  up  with  these  here  feet  o' 
mine.  See  the  top  o'  the  box  wa'n't  much 
more  'n  a  foot  above  me.  Tried  t'  crawl  up 
ag'in.  Could  n't  mek  it.  Dum  thing  slanted 


D'RI  AND   I  203 

luk  Tup's  Hill.  Hung  on  awhile,  cipherin'  es 
hard  es  I  knew  how.  Hearn  suthin'  go  kerslap. 
Seem  so  the  hull  place  trembled.  Raised  up 
my  head,  V  peeked  over  my  stumick  down  the 
box.  A  bar  o'  light  stuck  in  away  down.  Let 
myself  go  careful  till  I  c'u'd  see  my  nose  in  it 
Then  I  got  over  on  my  shoulder  'n'  braced  on 
the  sides  o'  the  box,  back  'g'in'  one  side  'n' 
knees  'g'in'  t'other.  See  't  was  a  knot-hole 
where  the  light  come  in,  'bout  es  big  es  a  man's 
wrist.  Peeked  through,  'n'  see  a  lot  o'  lights 
'n'  folks,  'n'  hearn  'em  talkin'.  Ray  he  stud  on 
a  platform  facin'  a  big,  powerful-lookin'  cuss. 
Hed  their  coats  'n'  vests  off,  'n'  sleeves  rolled 
up,  'n'  swords  ready.  See  there  wus  goin'  t'  be 
a  fight.  Hed  t'  snicker  —  wa'n'  no  way  I  c'u'd 
help  it,  fer,  Judas  Priest !  I  knew  dum  well  they 
wa'n't  a  single  one  of  them  air  Britishers  c'u'd 
stan'  'fore  'im.  Thet  air  mis'able  spindlin' 
devil  I  tol'  ye  'bout  —  feller  et  hed  the  women 
—  he  stud  back  o'  Ray.  Hed  his  hand  up  luk 
thet.  '  Fight ! '  he  says,  'n'  they  got  t'  work, 
'n'  the  crowd  begun  t'  jam  up  'n'  holler.  The 
big  feller  he  come  et  Ray  es  ef  he  wus  goin'  t' 
cut  him  in  tew.  Ray  he  tuk  it  easy  'n'  rassled 


D'RI  AND  I  204 

the  sword  of  the  big  chap  round  'n'  round  es  ef 
it  wus  tied  t'  hisn.  Fust  I  knew  he  med  a 
quick  lunge  'n'  pricked  'im  'n  the  arm.  Big 
chap  wus  a  leetle  shy  then.  Did  n't  come  up  t' 
the  scratch  es  smart  'n'  sassy  es  he'd  orter. 
Ray  he  went  efter  'im  hammer  'n'  tongs.  Thet 
air  long  slim  waist  o'  hisn  swayed  'n'  bent  luk 
a  stalk  o'  barley.  He  did  luk  joemightyful 
han'some  —  wish  't  ye  c'u'd  'a'  seen  'im  thet  air 
night.  Hair  wus  jest  es  shiny  es  gold  'n  the 
light  o'  them  candles.  He  'd  feint,  an'  t'  other 
'd  dodge.  Judas  Priest !  seemed  so  he  put  the 
p'int  o'  the  sword  all  over  thet  air  big  cuss. 
C'u'd  'a'  killed  'im  a  dozen  times,  but  I  see  he 
did  n't  want  t'  dew  it.  Kep'  prickin'  'im  ev'ry 
lunge  'n'  druv  'im  off  the  boards  —  tumbled  'im 
head  over  heels  hit'  the  crowd.  Them  air 
devils  threw  up  their  hats  'n'  stomped  'n'  hol 
lered  powerful,  es  ef  't  were  mighty  fun  t'  see 
a  man  cut  t'  pieces.  Wall,  they  tuk  up  another 
man,  quicker  'n  the  fust,  but  he  wa'n'  nowhere 
near  s'  big  'n'  cordy.  Wa'n't  only  one  crack  o' 
the  swords  in  thet  air  fight.  Could  n't  hardly  say 
Jack  Robinson  'fore  the  cuss  hed  fell.  Ray 
hurt  him  bad,  I  guess,  for  they  hed  t'  pick  'im 


D'RI  AND   I  205 

up  V  carry  'im  off  luk  a  baby.  Guess  the  boy 
see  't  he  hed  a  good  many  to  lick,  'n'  hed  n't 
better  waste  no  power  a-foolin'.  All  t'  once  thet 
air  low-lived,  spindlin',  mis'able  devil  he  come 
t'  the  edge  o'  the  platform  'n'  helt  up  his  hand. 
Soon  's  they  stopped  yellin'  he  says :  '  Gentle 
men,'  he  says,  '  sorry  t'  tell  ye  thet  the  man  fer 
the  next  bout  hes  got  away.  We  left  him 
securely  fastened  up  'n  the  fust  chamber. 
Have  hed  the  building  searched,  but  ain't  able 
t'  find  him.  He  must  hev  gone  down  the  slide. 
I  am  sorry  to  say  we  hev  no  more  Yankees.  If 
this  man  fights  any  more  it  will  hev  t'  be  a 
Britisher  thet  goes  ag'in'  'im.  Is  there  a 
volunteer  ? ' 

"  Ray  he  runs  up  'n'  says  suthin'  right  'n  his 
ear.  Could  n't  hear  whut  'twus.  Did  n'  set 
well.  T'  other  feller  he  flew  mad,  'n'  Ray  he 
fetched  'im  a  cuff,  luk  thet,  with  the  back  uv 
his  hand.  Ye  see,  he  did  n'  know  he  hed  been 
a-fightin'  Yankees,  'n'  he  did  n'  like  the  idee. 
'Gentlemen,'  says  he,  'I  '11  fight  anybody,  but  ef 
this  chap  ain't  a  coward,  he  '11  fight  me  himself.' 
T'  other  feller  he  off  with  his  coat  'n'  vest  es 
quick  es  a  flash  'n'  picked  up  a  sword.  '  Fight, 


D'RI  AND   I  206 

then,  ye  cub  ! '  says  he ;  an'  they  flew  at  each 
other  hell  bent  fer  'lection.  He  wa'n'  no  fool 
with  a  sword,  nuther,  I  can  tell  ye,  thet  air 
spindlin'  cuss.  I  see  Ray  hed  his  han's  full. 
But  he  wus  jest  es  cool  es  a  green  cowcumber, 
eggzac'ly.  Kep'  a-cuffin'  t'  other  sword,  'n'  let 
'im  hit  'n'  lunge  'n'  feint  es  much  es  he  pleased. 
See  he  wus  jest  a-gettin'  his  measure,  'n'  I  knew 
suthin'  wus  goin'  t'  happen  purty  quick.  Fust 
I  knew  he  ketched  Ray  by  the  shirtsleeve  with 
the  p'int  uv  'is  sword  'n'  ripped  it  t'  the  collar. 
Scairt  me  so  I  bit  my  tongue  watchin'  uv  'em. 
They  got  locked,  'n'  both  swords  came  up  t'  the 
hilts  t'gether  with  a  swish  'n'  a  bang  luk  thet. 
The  blades  clung,  'n'  they  backed  off.  Then 
Ray  he  begun  t'  feint  'n'  lunge  'n'  hustle  'im. 
Quicker  'n  scat  he  gin  'im  an  awful  prick  'n  the 
shoulder.  I  c'u'd  see  the  blood  come,  but  they 
kep'  a-goin'  back  'n'  forth  'n'  up  'n'  down 
desperit.  The  red  streak  on  thet  air  feller's 
shirt  kep'  a-growin'.  Purty  quick  one  side  uv 
'im  wus  red  an'  t'  other  white.  See  he  wus 
gettin'  weaker  'n'  weaker.  Ray  c'u'd  'a'  split 
'im  t'  the  navel  ef  he  'd  only  hed  a  min'  tew. 
All  t'  once  he  med  a  jab  at  Ray,  'n'  threw  up 


D'RI  AND   1  207 

'is  ban's,  'n'  went  back  a  step  er  tew,  luk  a  boss 
with  th'  blin'  staggers,  'n'  tumbled  head  over 
heels  in  thet  air  open  grave.  There  wus  hell 
t'  pay  fer  a  minute.  Lot  on  'em  clim'  over  the 
row  o'  lights,  yellin'  luk  wildcats,  'n'  hauled  thet 
air  mis'able  cuss  out  o'  the  grave,  'n'  stud  'im 
up,  'n'  gin  'im  a  drink  o'  liquor.  In  half  a 
minute  he  up  with  his  han'kerchief  'n'  waved 
it  over  'is  head  t'  mek  'em  keep  still.  Soon  's 
they  wus  quiet  he  up  'n'  he  says  :  '  Gentlemen,' 
says  he,  '  this  'ere  chap  hes  stood  the  test  o'  the 
sword.  Are  ye  satisfied?'  'We  are,'  says 
they  —  ev'ry  British  son  uv  a  gun  they  wus 
there  up  'n'  hollered.  'Then,'  says  he,  'giv' 
'im  th'  slide.' 

"  Ray  he  put  down  'is  sword  'n'  picked  up  'is 
coat  'n'  vest.  Then  they  grabbed  th'  lights,  'n' 
thet  's  th'  last  I  see  on'  em  there.  Purty  quick 
'twus  all  dark.  Hearn  'em  comin'  upstairs  'n 
goin'  'cross  th'  floor  over  my  head.  'Gun  t' 
think  o'  myself  a  leetle  bit  then.  Knowed  I 
was  in  thet  air  slide,  an'  bed  t'  le'  go  purty  quick. 
Hed  n't  no  idee  where  it  went  tew,  but  I  cal'* 
lated  I  wus  middlin'  sure  t'  know  'fore  long. 
Knowed  when  I  le'  go  I  wus  goin'  t'  dew  some 


D'RI  AND   I  208 

tall  slippin'  over  thet  air  greased  bottom.  See 
a  light  come  down  th'  box  'n  a  minute.  Hearn 
somebody  speakin'  there  et  the  upper  end. 

"  'This  'ere  's  th'  las'  test  o'  yer  courage,'  says 
a  man,  says  he ;  '  few  comes  here  alive  'n'  sound 
es  you  be.  Ye  wus  a  doomed  man.  Ye  'd  hev 
been  shot  at  daylight,  but  we  gin  ye  a  chance 
f er  yer  life.  So  fur  ye  've  proved  yerself  wuthy. 
Ef  ye  hold  yer  courage,  ye  may  yit  live.  Ef 
ye  flinch,  ye  '11  land  in  heaven.  Ef  yer  life  is 
spared,  remember  how  we  honor  courage/ 

"  Then  they  gin  'im  a  shove,  'n'  I  hearn  'im 
a-comin'.  I  flopped  over  'n'  le'  go.  Shot  away 
luk  a  streak  o'  lightnin'.  Dum  thing  grew 
steeper  'n'  steeper.  Jes'  hel'  up  my  han's  'n'  let 
'er  go  lickitty  split.  Jerushy  Jane  Pepper  !  jes' 
luk  comin'  down  a  greased  pole.  Come  near 
tekin'  my  breath  away  —  did  sart'n.  Went  out 
o'  thet  air  thing  luk  a  bullet  eggzac'ly.  Shot 
int'  the  air  feet  foremust.  Purty  fair  slidin'  up 
in  the  air  'most  anywheres,  ye  know.  Alwus 
come  down  by  the  nighest  way.  'T  was  darker 
'n  pitch;  could  n't  see  a  thing,  nut  a  thing. 
Hearn  Ray  come  out  o'  the  box  'bove  me. 
Then  I  come  down  k'slap  in  th'  water  'n'  sunk. 


D'RI  AND   I  209 

Thought  I  'd  never  stop  goin'  down.  'Fore  I 
come  up  I  hearn  Ray  rip  hit'  th'  water  nigh 
me.  I  come  up  'n'  shook  my  head,  'n'  waited. 
Judas  Priest !  thought  he  wus  drownded,  sart'n. 
Seemed  so  I  'd  bust  out  'n'  cry  there  'n  th'  water 
waitin'  fer  thet  air  boy.  Soon  es  I  hearn  a  flop 
I  hed  my  han's  on  'im. 

"  '  Who  be  you  ? '  says  he. 

"  '  D'ri,'  says  I. 

"'Tired  out,'  says  he;  'can't  swim  a  stroke. 
Guess  I  '11  hev  t'  go  t'  th'  bottom.' " 


XV  210 

'RI'S  narrative  was  the  talk  of 
the  garrison.  Those  who  heard 
the  telling,  as  I  did  not,  were 
fond  of  quoting  its  odd  phrases, 
and  of  describing  how  D'ri 
would  thrust  and  parry  with  his  jack-knife  in 
the  story  of  the  bouts. 

The  mystery  of  that  plunge  into  darkness 
and  invisible  water  was  a  trial  to  my  nerves  the 
like  of  which  I  had  never  suffered.  After  they 
had  pulled  his  Lordship  out  of  the  grave,  and  I 
knew  there  would  be  no  more  fighting,  I  began 
to  feel  the  strain  he  had  put  upon  me.  He  was 
not  so  strong  as  D'ri,  but  I  had  never  stood 
before  a  quicker  man.  His  blade  was  as  full  of 
life  and  cunning  as  a  cat's  paw,  and  he  tired  me. 
When  I  went  under  water  I  felt  sure  it  was  all 
over,  for  I  was  sick  and  faint.  I  had  been 
thinking  of  D'ri  in  that  quick  descent.  I  won- 


D'RI  AND    I  211 

dered  if  he  was  the  man  who  had  got  away 
and  gone  down  the  slide.  I  was  not  the  less 
amazed,  however,  to  feel  his  strong  hand  upon 
me  as  I  came  up.  I  knew  nothing  for  a  time. 
D'ri  has  told  me  often  how  he  bore  me  up  in 
rapid  water  until  he  came  into  an  eddy  where 
he  could  touch  bottom.  There,  presently,  I  got 
back  my  senses  and  stood  leaning  on  his  broad 
shoulder  awhile.  A  wind  was  blowing,  and  we 
could  hear  a  boat  jumping  in  the  ripples  near 
by.  We  could  see  nothing,  it  was  so  dark,  but 
D'ri  left  me,  feeling  his  way  slowly,  and  soon 
found  the  boat.  He  whistled  to  me,  and  I  made 
my  way  to  him.  There  were  oars  in  the  bottom 
of  the  boat.  D'ri  helped  me  in,  where  I  lay 
back  with  a  mighty  sense  of  relief.  Then  he 
hauled  in  a  rope  and  anchor,  and  shoved  off. 
The  boat,  overrunning  the  flow  in  a  moment, 
shot  away  rapidly.  I  could  feel  it  take  head 
way  as  we  clove  the  murmuring  waters.  D'ri 
set  the  oars  and  helped  it  on.  I  lay  awhile 
thinking  of  all  the  blood  and  horror  in  that 
black  night  —  like  a  dream  of  evil  that  leads 
through  dim  regions  of  silence  into  the  shadow 
of  death.  I  thought  of  the  hinted  peril  of  the 


D'RI  AND   I  212 

slide  that  was  to  be  the  punishment   of   poor 
courage. 

D'ri  had  a  plausible  theory  of  the  slide.  He 
said  that  if  we  had  clung  to  the  sides  of  it  to 
break  our  speed  we  'd  have  gone  down  like  a 
plummet  and  shattered  our  bones  on  a  rocky 
shore.  Coming  fast,  our  bodies  leaped  far  into 
the  air  and  fell  to  deep  water.  How  long  I  lay 
there  thinking,  as  I  rested,  I  have  no  satisfac 
tory  notion.  Louise  and  Louison  came  into  my 
thoughts,  and  a  plan  of  rescue.  A  rush  of  cav 
alry  and  reeking  swords,  a  dash  for  the  boats, 
with  a  flying  horse  under  each  fair  lady,  were 
in  that  moving  vision.  But  where  should  we 
find  them  ?  for  I  knew  not  the  name  of  that 
country  out  of  which  we  had  come  by  ways  of 
darkness  and  peril.  The  old  query  came  to  me, 
If  I  had  to  choose  between  them,  which  should 
I  take  ?  There  was  as  much  of  the  old  doubt 
in  me  as  ever.  For  a  verity,  I  loved  them  both, 
and  would  die  for  either.  I  opened  my  eyes  at 
last,  and,  rising,  my  hands  upon  the  gunwales, 
could  dimly  see  the  great  shoulders  of  D'ri 
swaying  back  and  forth  as  he  rowed.  The 
coming  dawn  had  shot  an  arrow  into  the  great, 


D'RI  AND    I 


21 3 


black  sphere  of  night,  cracking  it  from  circum 
ference  to  core,  and  floods  of  light  shortly  came 
pouring  in,  sweeping  down  bridges  of  darkness, 
gates  of  gloom,  and  massy  walls  of  shadow. 
We  were  in  the  middle  of  a  broad  river  —  the 
St.  Lawrence,  we  knew,  albeit  the  shores  were 
unfamiliar  to  either  of  us.  The  sunlight  stuck 
in  the  ripples,  and  the  breeze  fanned  them  into 
flowing  fire.  The  morning  lighted  the  green 
hills  of  my  native  land  with  a  mighty  splendor. 
A  new  life  and  a  great  joy  came  to  me  as  I  filled 
my  lungs  with  the  sweet  air.  D'ri  pulled  into 
a  cove,  and  neither  could  speak  for  a  little.  He 
turned,  looking  out  upon  the  river,  and  brushed 
a  tear  off  his  brown  cheek. 

"  No  use  talkin',"  said  he,  in  a  low  tone,  as 
the  bow  hit  the  shore,  "  ain'  no  country  luk  this 
'un,  don'  care  where  ye  go." 

As  the  oars  lay  still,  we  could  hear  in  the  far 
timber  a  call  of  fife  and  drum.  Listening,  we 
heard  the  faint  familiar  strains  of  "  Yankee 
Doodle."  We  came  ashore  in  silence,  and  I 
hugged  the  nearest  tree,  and  was  not  able  to  say 
the  "  Thank  God  !  "  that  fell  from  my  lips  only 
half  spoken. 


XVI  214 

tE  got  our  bearings,  a  pair  of 
boots  for  D'ri,  and  a  hearty 
meal  in  the  cabin  of  a  settler. 
The  good  man  was  unfamiliar 
with  the  upper  shore,  and  we 
got  no  help  in  our  mystery.  Starting  west, 
in  the  woods,  on  our  way  to  the  Harbor,  we 
stopped  here  and  there  to  listen,  but  heard 
only  wood-thrush  and  partridge  —  the  fife  and 
drum  of  nature.  That  other  music  had  gone 
out  of  hearing.  We  had  no  compass,  but 
D'ri  knew  the  forest  as  a  crow  knows  the 
air.  He  knew  the  language  of  the  trees  and 
the  brooks.  The  feel  of  the  bark  and  what  he 
called  "the  lean  of  the  timber"  told  him  which 
way  was  south.  River  and  stream  had  a  way 
of  telling  him  whence  they  had  come  and  where 
they  were  going,  but  he  had  no  understanding 
of  a  map.  I  remember,  after  we  had  come  to 


D'RI  AND    I  215 

the  Harbor  at  dusk  and  told  our  story,  the  gen 
eral  asked  him  to  indicate  our  landing-place  and 
our  journey  home  on  a  big  map  at  headquarters. 
D'ri  studied  the  map  a  brief  while.  There  was 
a  look  of  embarrassment  on  his  sober  face. 

"  Seems  so  we  come  ashore  'bout  here,"  said 
he,  dropping  the  middle  finger  of  his  right  hand 
in  the  vicinity  of  Quebec.  "  Then  we  travelled 
aw-a-a-ay  hellwards  over  'n  this  'ere  direction." 
With  that  illuminating  remark  he  had  slid  his 
finger  over  some  two  hundred  leagues  of 
country  from  Quebec  to  Michigan. 

They  met  us  with  honest  joy  and  no  little 
surprise  that  evening  as  we  came  into  camp. 
Ten  of  our  comrades  had  returned,  but  as  for 
ourselves,  they  thought  us  in  for  a  long  stay. 
We  said  little  of  what  we  had  gone  through, 
outside  the  small  office  at  headquarters,  but 
somehow  it  began  to  travel,  passing  quickly 
from  mouth  to  mouth,  until  it  got  to  the  news 
papers  and  began  to  stir  the  tongue  of  each  raw 
recruit.  General  Brown  was  there  that  evening, 
and  had  for  me,  as  always,  the  warm  heart  of >  a 
father.  He  heard  our  report  with  a  kindly 
sympathy. 


D'RI  AND    I  216 

Next  morning  I  rode  away  to  see  the  Comte 
de  Chaumont  at  Leraysville.  I  had  my  life, 
and  a  great  reason  to  be  thankful,  but  there 
were  lives  dearer  than  my  own  to  me,  and  they 
were  yet  in  peril.  Those  dear  faces  haunted  me 
and  filled  my  sleep  with  trouble.  I  rode  fast, 
reaching  the  chateau  at  luncheon  time.  The 
count  was  reading  in  a  rustic  chair  at  the  big 
gate.  He  came  running  to  me,  his  face  red 
with  excitement. 

"M'sieur  le  Capitaine!"  he  cried,  my  hand 
in  both  of  his,  "  I  thought  you  were  dead." 

"  And  so  I  have  been  —  dead  as  a  cat 
drowned  in  a  well,  that  turns  up  again  as  lively 
as  ever.  Any  news  of  the  baroness  and  the 
young  ladies  ? " 

"A  letter,"  said  he.  "Come,  get  off  your 
horse.  I  shall  read  to  you  the  letter." 

"  Tell  me  —  how  were  they  taken  ?  " 

I  was  leading  my  horse,  and  we  were  walking 
through  the  deep  grove. 

"  Eh  bien,  I  am  not  able  to  tell,"  said  he, 
shaking  his  head  soberly.  "You  remember 
that  morning  —  well,  I  have  twenty  men  there 
for  two  days.  They  are  armed,  they  surround 


D'RI  AND    I  217 

the  Hermitage,  they  keep  a  good  watch.  The 
wasp  he  is  very  troublesome,  but  they  see  no 
soldier.  They  stay,  they  burn  the  smudge.  By 
and  by  I  think  there  is  nothing  to  fear,  and  I 
bring  them  home,  but  I  leave  three  men.  The 
baroness  and  the  two  girls  and  their  servants 
they  stay  awhile  to  pack  the  trunk.  They  are 
coming  to  the  chateau.  It  is  in  the  evening; 
the  coach  is  at  the  door;  the  servants  have 
started.  Suddenly  —  the  British  !  I  do  not 
know  how  many.  They  come  out  of  the  woods 
like  a  lightning,  and  bang!  bang!  bang!  they 
have  killed  my  men.  They  take  the  baroness 
and  the  Misses  de  Lambert,  and  they  drive 
away  with  them.  The  servants  they  hear  the 
shots,  they  return,  they  come,  and  they  tell  us. 
We  follow.  We  find  the  coach  ;  it  is  in  the 
road,  by  the  north  trail.  Dieu !  they  are  all 
gone!  We  travel  to  the  river,  but—  "  here  he 
lifted  his  shoulders  and  shook  his  head  dolefully 
—  "  we  could  do  nothing." 

"  The  general  may  let  me  go  after  them  with 
a  force  of  cavalry,"  I  said.  "  I  want  you  ^to 
come  with  me  and  talk  to  him." 

"  No,  no,  my  capitaine  !  "  said  he;  "it  would 


D'RI  AND    I  218 

not  be  wise.  We  must  wait.  We  do  not  know 
where  they  are.  I  have  friends  in  Canada ; 
they  are  doing  their  best,  and  when  we  hear 
from  them  —  eh  bien,  we  shall  know  what  is 
necessary." 

I  told  him  how  I  had  met  them  that  night  in 
Canada,  and  what  came  of  it. 

"  They  are  a  cruel  people,  the  English,"  said 
he.  "  I  am  afraid  to  find  them  will  be  a  matter 
of  great  difficulty." 

"But  the  letter  —  " 

"Ah,  the  letter,"  he  interrupted,  feeling  in 
his  pocket.  "  The  letter  is  not  much.  It  is 
from  Tiptoes  —  from  Louison.  It  was  mailed 
this  side  of  the  river  at  Morristown.  You  shall 
see ;  they  do  not  know  where  they  are." 

He  handed  me  the  letter.  I  read  it  with  an 
eagerness  I  could  not  conceal.  It  went  as 
follows :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  COUNT  :  If  this  letter  reaches  you, 
it  will,  I  hope,  relieve  your  anxiety.  We  are 
alive  and  well,  but  where  ?  I  am  sure  I  have 
no  better  idea  than  if  I  were  a  baby  just  born. 
We  came  here  with  our  eyes  covered  after  a  long 
ride  from  the  river,  which  we  crossed  in  the 


D'RI  AND   I  219 

night.  I  think  it  must  have  taken  us  three 
days  to  come  here.  We  are  shut  up  in  a  big 
house  with  high  walls  and  trees  and  gardens 
around  it — a  beautiful  place.  We  have  fine  beds 
and  everything  to  eat,  only  we  miss  the  bouil 
labaisse,  and  the  jokes  of  M.  Pidgeon,  and  the 
fine  old  claret.  A  fat  Englishwoman  who  wad 
dles  around  like  a  big  goose  and  who  calls  me 
Mumm  (as  if  I  were  a  wine-maker !)  waits  upon 
us.  We  do  not  know  the  name  of  our  host.  He 
is  a  tall  man  who  says  little  and  has  hair  on  his 
neck  and  on  the  back  of  his  hands.  Dieu  !  he  is 
a  lord  who  talks  as  if  he  were  too  lazy  to  breathe. 
It  is  '  Your  Lordship  this '  and  '  Your  Lordship 
that.'  But  I  must  speak  well  of  him,  because  he 
is  going  to  read  this  letter  :  it  is  on  that  condition 
I  am  permitted  to  write.  Therefore  I  say  he  is 
a  great  and  good  man,  a  beautiful  man.  The 
baroness  and  Louise  send  love  to  all.  Madame 
says  do  not  worry  ;  we  shall  come  out  all  right : 
but  I  say  worry  !  and,  good  man,  do  not  cease 
to  worry  until  we  are  safe  home.  Tell  the  curd 
he  has  something  to  do  now.  I  have  worn  out 
my  rosary,  and  am  losing  faith.  Tell  him  to 
try  his.  (( Your  affectionate 

"  LOUISON." 

4 

"  She  is  an  odd  girl,"  said  the  count,  as  I 
gave  back  the  letter,  "  so  full  of  fun,  so  happy, 


D'RI  AND    I  220 

so  bright,  so  quick  —  always  on  her  tiptoes. 
Come,  you  are  tired ;  you  have  ridden  far  in 
the  dust.  I  shall  make  you  glad  to  be  here." 

A  groom  took  my  horse,  and  the  count  led 
me  down  a  wooded  slope  to  the  lakeside. 
Octagonal  water-houses,  painted  white,  lay 
floating  at  anchor  near  us.  He  rowed  me  to 
one  of  them  for  a  bath.  Inside  was  a  rug  and 
a  table  and  soap  and  linen.  A  broad  panel  on 
a  side  of  the  floor  came  up  as  I  pulled  a  cord, 
showing  water  clear  and  luminous  to  the  sandy 
lake-bottom.  The  glow  of  the  noonday  filled 
the  lake  to  its  shores,  and  in  a  moment  I  clove 
the  sunlit  depths  —  a  rare  delight  after  my  long, 
hot  ride. 

At  luncheon  we  talked  of  the  war,  and  he 
made  much  complaint  of  the  Northern  army, 
as  did  everybody  those  days. 

"My  boy,"  said  he,  "you  should  join  Perry 
on  the  second  lake.  It  is  your  only  chance  to 
fight,  to  win  glory." 

He  told  me  then  of  the  impending  battle  and 
of  Perry's  great  need  of  men.  I  had  read  of 
the  sea-fighting  and  longed  for  a  part  in  it. 
To  climb  on  hostile  decks  and  fight  hand  to 


D'RI  AND   I  221 

hand  was  a  thing  to  my  fancy.  Ah,  well !  I 
was  young  then.  At  the  count's  table  that 
day  I  determined  to  go,  if  I  could  get  leave. 

Therese  and  a  young  Parisienne,  her  friend, 
were  at  luncheon  with  us.  They  bade  us  adieu 
and  went  away  for  a  gallop  as  we  took  cigars. 
We  had  no  sooner  left  the  dining  room  than  I 
called  for  my  horse.  Due  at  the  Harbor  that 
evening,  I  could  give  myself  no  longer  to  the 
fine  hospitality  of  the  count.  In  a  few  moments 
I  was  bounding  over  the  road,  now  cool  in  deep 
forest  shadows.  A  little  way  on  I  overtook 
Therese  and  the  Parisienne.  The  former  called 
to  me  as  I  passed.  I  drew  rein,  coming  back 
and  stopping  beside  her.  The  other  went  on 
at  a  walk. 

"  M'sieur  le  Capitaine,  have  you  any  news  of 
them  —  of  Louise  and  Louison  ?  "  she  inquired. 
"  You  and  my  father  were  so  busy  talking  I 
could  not  ask  you  before." 

"  I  know  this  only :  they  are  in  captivity 
somewhere,  I  cannot  tell  where." 

"You  look  worried,  M'sieur  le  Capitaine; 
you  have  not  the  happy  face,  the  merry  look, 
any  longer.  In  June  you  were  a  boy,  in  August 


D'RI  AND   1  222 

—  voila!  it  is  a  man  !  Perhaps  you  are  prepar 
ing  for  the  ministry." 

She  assumed  a  solemn  look,  glancing  up  at 
me  as  if  in  mockery  of  my  sober  face.  She 
was  a  slim,  fine  brunette,  who,  as  I  knew,  had 
long  been  a  confidante  of  Louison. 

"  Alas  !  ma'm'selle,  I  am  worried.  I  have  no 
longer  any  peace." 

"  Do  you  miss  them  ?  "  she  inquired,  a  know 
ing  look  in  her  handsome  eyes.  "  Do  not  think 
me  impertinent." 

"  More  than  I  miss  my  mother,"  I  said. 

"I  have  a  letter,"  said  she,  smiling.  "I  do 
not  know  —  I  thought  I  should  show  it  to  you, 
but  —  but  not  to-day." 

"  Is  it  from  them  ?  " 

"  It  is  from  Louison  —  from  Tiptoes." 

"  And  —  and  it  speaks  of  me  ?  " 

"  Ah,  m'sieur,"  said  she,  arching  her  brows, 
"  it  has  indeed  much  to  say  of  you." 

"And  —  and  may  I  not  see  it?"  I  asked 
eagerly.  "  Ma'm'selle,  I  tell  you  I  —  I  must 
see  it." 

"Why  ?  "  She  stirred  the  mane  of  her  horse 
with  a  red  riding-whip. 


D'RI  AND    I 


223 


"  Why  not  ? "  I  inquired,  my  heart  beating 
fast. 

"  If  I  knew  —  if  I  were  justified  —  you  know 
I  am  her  friend.  I  know  all  her  secrets." 

"  Will  you  not  be  my  friend  also  ? "  I  inter 
rupted. 

"  A  friend  of  Louison,  he  is  mine,"  said  she. 

"Ah,  ma'm'selle,  then  I  confess  to  you — it 
is  because  I  love  her." 

"  I  knew  it ;  I  am  no  fool,"  was  her  answer. 
"  But  I  had  to  hear  it  from  you.  It  is  a  remark 
able  thing  to  do,  but  they  are  in  such  peril.  I 
think  you  ought  to  know." 

She  took  the  letter  from  her  bosom,  passing 
it  to  my  hand.  A  faint  odor  of  violets  came 
with  it.  It  read  :  — 


"  MY  DEAR  THE"RESE  :  I  wish  I  could  see 
you,  if  only  for  an  hour.  I  have  so  much  to 
say.  I  have  written  your  father  of  our  prison 
home.  I  am  going  to  write  you  of  my  troubles. 
You  know  what  we  were  talking  about  the  last 
time  I  saw  you  —  myself  and  that  handsome 
fellow.  Mon  Dieu !  I  shall  not  name  him.  Ij: 
is  not  necessary.  Well,  you  were  right,  my  dear. 
I  was  a  fool ;  I  laughed  at  your  warning ;  I  did 


D'RI  AND    I  224 

not  know  the  meaning  of  that  delicious  pain. 
But  oh,  my  dear  friend,  it  has  become  a  terrible 
thing  since  I  know  I  may  never  see  him  again. 
My  heart  is  breaking  with  it.  Mere  de  Dieu ! 
I  can  no  longer  laugh  or  jest  or  pretend  to  be 
happy.  What  shall  I  say  ?  That  I  had  rather 
die  than  live  without  him  ?  No ;  that  is  not 
enough.  I  had  rather  be  an  old  maid  and  live 
only  with  the  thought  of  him  than  marry  an 
other,  if  he  were  a  king.  I  remember  those 
words  of  yours,  '  I  know  he  loves  you.'  Oh,  my 
dear  Therese,  what  a  comfort  they  are  to  me 
now !  I  repeat  them  often.  If  /  could  only 
say,  '  I  know  ' !  Alas  !  I  can  but  say,  '  I  do  not 
know/  nay,  even,  '  I  do  not  believe.'  If  I  had 
not  been  a  fool  I  should  have  made  him  tell  me, 
for  I  had  him  over  his  ears  in  love  with  me  one 
day,  or  I  am  no  judge  of  a  man.  But,  you  know, 
they  are  so  fickle !  And  then  the  Yankee  girls 
are  pretty  and  so  clever.  Well,  they  shall  not 
have  him  if  I  can  help  it.  When  I  return  there 
shall  be  war,  if  necessary,  between  France  and 
America.  And,  Therese,  you  know  I  have 
weapons,  and  you  have  done  me  the  honor  to 
say  I  know  how  to  use  them.  I  have  told 
Louise,  and  —  what  do  you  think?  —  the  poor 
thing  cried  an  hour  —  for  pity  of  me  !  As  ever, 
she  makes  my  trouble  her  own.  I  have  been 
selfish  always,  but  I  know  the  cure.  It  is  love 


D'RI  AND   I  225 

—  toujours  1'amour.  Now  I  think  only  of  him, 
and  he  recalls  you  and  your  sweet  words.  God 
make  you  a  true  prophet !  With  love  to  you 
and  the  marquis,  I  kiss  each  line,  praying  for 
happiness  for  you  and  for  him.  Believe  me  as 
ever, 

"  Your  affectionate 

"  LOUISON. 

"P.S.  I  feel  better  now  I  have  told  you.  I 
wonder  what  his  Lordship  will  say.  Poor  thing! 
he  will  read  this  ;  he  will  think  me  a  fool.  Eh 
bien,  I  have  no  better  thought  of  him.  He  can 
put  me  under  lock  and  key,  but  he  shall  not 
imprison  my  secrets ;  and,  if  they  bore  him,  he 
should  not  read  my  letters.  L." 

I  read  it  thrice,  and  held  it  for  a  moment  to 
my  lips.  Every  word  stung  me  with  the  sweet 
pain  that  afflicted  its  author.  I  could  feel  my 
cheeks  burning. 

"  Ma'm'selle,  pardon  me ;  it  is  not  I  she  refers 
to.  She  does  not  say  whom." 

"  Surely,"  said  The"rese,  flirting  her  whip  and 
lifting  her  shoulders.  "  M'sieur  le  Capitaine  is 
never  a  stupid  man.  You  —  you  should  s.ay 
something  very  nice  now." 

"If  it  is  I  —  thank  God!  Her  misery  is  my 
delight,  her  liberation  my  one  purpose." 


D'RI  AND   I  226 

"  And  my  congratulations,"  said  she,  giving 
me  her  hand.  "  She  has  wit  and  beauty,  a  true 
heart,  a  great  fortune,  and  —  good  luck  in  having 
your  love." 

I  raised  my  hat,  blushing  to  the  roots  of  my 
hair. 

"  It  is  a  pretty  compliment,"  I  said.  "  And 
—  and  I  have  no  gift  of  speech  to  thank  you. 
I  am  not  a  match  for  you  except  in  my  love 
of  kindness  and  —  and  of  Louison.  You  have 
made  me  happier  than  I  have  been  before." 

"If  I  have  made  you  alert,  ingenious,  de 
termined,  I  am  content,"  was  her  answer.  "  I 
know  you  have  courage." 

''And  will  to  use  it." 

"  Good  luck  and  adieu!  "  said  she,  with  a  fine 
flourish  of  her  whip ;  those  people  had  always 
a  pretty  politeness  of  manner. 

"  Adieu,"  I  said,  lifting  my  hat  as  I  rode  off, 
with  a  prick  of  the  spur,  for  the  road  was  long 
and  I  had  lost  quite  half  an  hour. 

My  elation  gave  way  to  sober  thought  pres 
ently.  I  began  to  think  of  Louise  —  that  quiet, 
frank,  noble,  beautiful,  great-hearted  girl,  who 
might  be  suffering  what  trouble  I  knew  not,  and 


D'RI  AND   I  227 

all  silently,  there  in  her  prison  home.  A  sadness 
grew  in  me,  and  then  suddenly  I  saw  the  shadow 
of  great  trouble.  I  loved  them  both ;  I  knew 
not  which  I  loved  the  better.  Yet  this  interview 
had  almost  committed  me  to  Louison. 


XVII  228 

RDERS  came  shortly  from  the 
War  Department  providing  a  de 
tail  to  go  and  help  man  the  guns 
of  Perry  at  Put-in  Bay.  I  had 
the  honor  of  leading  them  on 
the  journey  and  turning  them  over  to  the  young 
captain.  I  could  not  bear  to  be  lying  idle  at 
the  garrison.  A  thought  of  those  in  captivity 
was  with  me  night  and  day,  but  I  could  do  noth 
ing  for  them.  I  had  had  a  friendly  talk  with 
General  Brown.  He  invited  and  received  my 
confidence  touching  the  tender  solicitude  I  was 
unable  to  cover.  I  laid  before  him  the  plan 
of  an  expedition.  He  smiled,  purring  a  cigar 
thoughtfully. 

"  Reckless  folly,  Bell,"  said  he,  after  a  mo 
ment.  "You  are  young  and  lucky.  If  you 
were  flung  in  the  broad  water  there  with  a 
millstone  tied  to  your  neck,  I  should  not  be 
surprised  to  see  you  turn  up  again.  My  young 


D'RI  AND   I  229 

friend,  to  start  off  with  no  destination  but  Can 
ada  is  too  much  even  for  you.  We  have  no 
men  to  waste.  Wait ;  a  rusting  sabre  is  better 
than  a  hole  in  the  heart.  There  will  be  good 
work  for  you  in  a  few  days,  I  hope." 

And  there  was  —  the  job  of  which  I  have 
spoken,  that  came  to  me  through  his  kind 
offices.  We  set  sail  in  a  schooner  one  bright 
morning,  —  D'ri  and  I  and  thirty  others, — bound 
for  Two-Mile  Creek.  Horses  were  waiting  for 
us  there.  We  mounted  them,  and  made  the 
long  journey  overland  —  a  ride  through  wood 
and  swale  on  a  road  worn  by  the  wagons  of  the 
emigrant,  who,  even  then,  was  pushing  westward 
to  the  fertile  valleys  of  Ohio.  It  was  hard 
travelling,  but  that  was  the  heyday  of  my  youth, 
and  the  bird  music,  and  the  many  voices  of  a 
waning  summer  in  field  and  forest,  were  some 
how  in  harmony  with  the  great  song  of  my 
heart.  In  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  of 
September  6,  we  came  to  the  Bay,  and  pulled 
up  at  headquarters,  a  two-story  frame  building^on 
a  high  shore.  There  were  wooded  islands  in 
the  offing,  and  between  them  we  could  see  the 
fleet  —  nine  vessels,  big  and  little. 


D'RI  AND  I  230 

I  turned  over  the  men,  who  were  taken  to  the 
ships  immediately  and  put  under  drill.  Surgeon 
Usher  of  the  Lawrence  and  a  young  midshipman 
rowed  me  to  Gibraltar  Island,  well  out  in  the 
harbor,  where  the  surgeon  presented  me  to 
Perry  —  a  tall,  shapely  man,  with  dark  hair  and 
eyes,  and  ears  hidden  by  heavy  tufts  of  beard. 
He  stood  on  a  rocky  point  high  above  the  water, 
a  glass  to  his  eye,  looking  seaward.  His  youth 
surprised  me  :  he  was  then  twenty-eight.  I  had 
read  much  of  him  and  was  looking  for  an  older 
man.  He  received  me  kindly :  he  had  a  fine 
dignity  and  gentle  manners.  Somewhere  he 
had  read  of  that  scrape  of  mine  —  the  last  one 
there  among  the  Avengers.  He  gave  my  hand 
a  squeeze  and  my  sword  a  compliment  I  have 
not  yet  forgotten,  assuring  me  of  his  pleasure 
that  I  was  to  be  with  him  awhile.  The  greet 
ing  over,  we  rowed  away  to  the  Lawrence. 
She  was  chopping  lazily  at  anchor  in  a  light 
breeze,  her  sails  loose.  Her  crew  cheered  their 
commander  as  we  came  under  the  frowning 
guns. 

"  They  're  tired  of  waiting,"  said  he ;  "  they  're 
looking  for  business  when  I  come  aboard." 


D'RI  AND   I  231 

He  showed  me  over  the  clean  decks :  it  was 
all  as  clean  as  a  Puritan  parlor. 

"  Captain,"  said  he,  "  tie  yourself  to  that  big 
bow  gun.  It 's  the  modern  sling  of  David,  only 
its  pebble  is  big  as  a  rock.  Learn  how  to  handle 
it,  and  you  may  take  a  fling  at  the  British  some 
day." 

He  put  D'ri  in  my  squad,  as  I  requested, 
leaving  me  with  the  gunners.  I  went  to  work 
at  once,  and  knew  shortly  how  to  handle  the 
big  machine.  D'ri  and  I  convinced  the  captain 
with  no  difficulty  that  we  were  fit  for  a  fight  so 
soon  as  it  might  come. 

It  came  sooner  than  we  expected.  The  cry  of 
"  Sail  ho  !  "  woke  me  early  one  morning.  It  was 
the  loth  of  September.  The  enemy  was  com 
ing.  Sails  were  sticking  out  of  the  misty  dawn 
a  few  miles  away.  In  a  moment  our  decks  were 
black  and  noisy  with  the  hundred  and  two  that 
manned  the  vessel.  It  was  every  hand  to  rope 
and  windlass  then.  Sails  went  up  with  a  snap 

all  around  us,  and  the  creak  of  blocks  sounded 

> 
far  and  near.    In  twelve  minutes  we  were  under 

way,  leading  the  van  to  battle.     The  sun  came 
up,  lighting  the  great  towers  of  canvas.     Every 


D'RI  AND   I  232 

vessel  was  now  feeling  for  the  wind,  some  with 
oars  and  sweeps  to  aid  them.  A  light  breeze 
came  out  of  the  southwest.  Perry  stood  near 
me,  his  hat  in  his  hand.  He  was  looking  back 
at  the  Niagara. 

"  Run  to  the  leeward  of  the  islands,"  said  he 
to  the  sailing-master. 

"  Then  you  '11  have  to  fight  to  the  leeward," 
said  the  latter. 

"  Don't  care,  so  long  as  we  fight,"  said  Perry. 
"Windward  or  leeward,  we  want  to  fight." 

Then  came  the  signal  to  change  our  course. 
The  wind  shifting  to  the  southeast,  we  were  all 
able  to  clear  the  islands  and  keep  the  weather- 
gage.  A  cloud  came  over  the  sun ;  far  away 
the  mist  thickened.  The  enemy  wallowed  to 
the  topsails,  and  went  out  of  sight.  We  had 
lost  the  wind.  Our  sails  went  limp ;  flag  and 
pennant  hung  lifeless.  A  light  rain  drizzled 
down,  breaking  the  smooth  plane  of  water  into 
crowding  rings  and  bubbles.  Perry  stood  out 
in  the  drizzle  as  we  lay  waiting.  All  eyes  were 
turning  to  the  sky  and  to  Perry.  He  had  a  look 
of  worry  and  disgust.  He  was  out  for  a  quarrel, 
though  the  surgeon  said  he  was  in  more  need 


D'RI  AND   I  233 

of  physic,  having  the  fever  of  malaria  as  well 
as  that  of  war.  He  stood  there,  tall  and  hand 
some,  in  a  loose  jacket  of  blue  nankeen,  with 
no  sign  of  weakness  in  him,  his  eyes  flashing 
as  he  looked  up  at  the  sky. 

D'ri  and  I  stood  in  the  squad  at  the  bow  gun. 
D'ri  was  wearing  an  old  straw  hat ;  his  flannel 
shirt  was  open  at  the  collar. 

"  Ship  stan's  luk  an  ol'  cow  chawin'  'er  cud," 
said  he,  looking  off  at  the  weather.  "  They  's  a 
win'  comin'  over  there.  It  '11  give  'er  a  slap  'n 
th'  side  purty  soon,  mebbe.  Then  she  '11  switch 
'er  tail  'n'  go  on  'bout  'er  business." 

In  a  moment  we  heard  a  roaring  cheer  back 
amidships.  Perry  had  come  up  the  companion- 
way  with  his  blue  battle-flag.  He  held  it  before 
him  at  arm's-length.  I  could  see  a  part  of  its 
legend,  in  white  letters,  "  Don't  give  up  the 
ship." 

"  My  brave  lads,"  he  shouted,  "  shall  we 
hoist  it?" 

Our  "  Ay,  ay,  sir !  "  could  have  been  heard 
a  mile  away,  and  the  flag  rose,  above  tossing 
hats  and  howling  voices,  to  the  mainroyalmast- 
head. 


D'RI  AND   I  234 

The  wind  came ;  we  could  hear  the  sails  snap 
and  stiffen  as  it  overhauled  the  fleet  behind  us. 
In  a  jiffy  it  bunted  our  own  hull  and  canvas,  and 
again  we  began  to  plough  the  water.  It  grew 
into  a  smart  breeze,  and  scattered  the  fleet  of 
clouds  that  hovered  over  us.  The  rain  passed  ; 
sunlight  sparkled  on  the  rippling  plane  of  water. 
We  could  now  see  the  enemy ;  he  had  hove  to, 
and  was  waiting  for  us  in  a  line.  A  crowd  was 
gathering  on  the  high  shores  we  had  left  to  see 
the  battle.  We  were  well  in  advance,  crowding 
our  canvas  in  a  good  breeze.  I  could  hear  only 
the  roaring  furrows  of  water  on  each  side  of  the 
prow.  Every  man  of  us  held  his  tongue,  men 
tally  trimming  ship,  as  they  say,  for  whatever 
might  come.  Three  men  scuffed  by,  sanding  the 
decks.  D'ri  was  leaning  placidly  over  the  big 
gun.  He  looked  off  at  the  white  line,  squinted 
knowingly,  and  spat  over  the  bulwarks.  Then 
he  straightened  up,  tilting  his  hat  to  his  right  ear. 

"  They  're  p'intin'  their  guns,"  said  a  swabber. 

"  Fust  they  know  they  '11  git  spit  on,"  said 
D'ri,  calmly. 

Well,  for  two  hours  it  was  all  creeping  and 
talking  under  the  breath,  and  here  and  there  an 


D'RI  AND   I  235 

oath  as  some  nervous  chap  tightened  the  ropes 
of  his  resolution.  Then  suddenly,  as  we  swung 
about,  a  murmur  went  up  and  down  the  deck. 
We  could  see  with  our  naked  eyes  the  men  who 
were  to  give  us  battle.  Perry  shouted  sternly 
to  some  gunners  who  thought  it  high  time  to 
fire.  Then  word  came :  there  would  be  no  fir 
ing  until  we  got  close.  Little  gusts  of  music 
came  chasing  over  the  water  faint-footed  to  our 
decks  —  a  band  playing  "Rule  Britannia."  I 
was  looking  at  a  brig  in  the  line  of  the  enemy 
when  a  bolt  of  fire  leaped  out  of  her  and  thick 
belches  of  smoke  rushed  to  her  topsails.  Then 
something  hit  the  sea  near  by  a  great  hissing 
slap,  and  we  turned  quickly  to  see  chunks  of 
the  shattered  lake  surface  fly  up  in  nets  of  spray 
and  fall  roaring  on  our  deck.  We  were  all 
drenched  there  at  the  bow  gun.  I  remember 
some  of  those  water-drops  had  the  sting  of  hard- 
flung  pebbles,  but  we  only  bent  our  heads, 
waiting  eagerly  for  the  word  to  fire. 

"We  was  th'  ones  'at  got  spit  on,"  said, a 
gunner,  looking  at  D'ri. 

"Wish  they'd  let  us  holler  back,"  said  the 
latter,  placidly.  "  Sick  o'  holdin'  in." 


D'RI  AND   I  236 

We  kept  fanning  down  upon  the  enemy,  now 
little  more  than  a  mile  away,  signalling  the  fleet 
to  follow. 

"  My  God  !  see  there  !  "  a  gunner  shouted. 

The  British  line  had  turned  into  a  reeling, 
whirling  ridge  of  smoke  lifting  over  spurts  of 
flame  at  the  bottom.  We  knew  what  was  com 
ing.  Untried  in  the  perils  of  shot  and  shell, 
some  of  my  gunners  stooped  to  cover  under  the 
bulwarks. 

"  Pull  'em  out  o'  there,"  I  called,  turning  to 
D'ri,  who  stood  beside  me. 

The  storm  of  iron  hit  us.  A  heavy  ball 
crashed  into  the  after  bulwarks,  tearing  them 
away  and  slamming  over  gun  and  carriage,  that 
slid  a  space,  grinding  the  gunners  under  it. 
One  end  of  a  bowline  whipped  over  us ;  a  jib 
dropped ;  a  brace  fell  crawling  over  my  shoul 
ders  like  a  big  snake ;  the  foremast  went  into 
splinters  a  few  feet  above  the  deck,  its  top  fall 
ing  over,  its  canvas  sagging  in  great  folds.  It 
was  all  the  work  of  a  second.  That  hasty  flight 
of  iron,  coming  out  of  the  air,  thick  as  a  flock  of 
pigeons,  had  gone  through  hull  and  rigging  in  a 
wink  of  the  eye.  And  a  fine  mess  it  had  made. 


D'RI  AND   I  237 

Men  lay  scattered  along  the  deck,  bleeding, 
yelling,  struggling.  There  were  two  lying  near 
us  with  blood  spurting  out  of  their  necks.  One 
rose  upon  a  knee,  choking  horribly,  shaken  with 
the  last  throes  of  his  flooded  heart,  and  reeled 
over.  The  Scorpion  of  our  fleet  had  got  her 
guns  in  action;  the  little  Ariel was  also  firing. 
D'ri  leaned  over,  shouting  in  my  ear. 

"  Don't  like  th'  way  they  're  whalin'  uv  us," 
he  said,  his  cheeks  red  with  anger. 

"  Nor  I,"  was  my  answer. 

"  Don't  like  t'  stan'  here  an'  dew  nuthin'  but 
git  licked,"  he  went  on.  "  'T  am'  no  way 
nat'ral." 

Perry  came  hurrying  forward. 

"  Fire ! "  he  commanded,  with  a  quick  ges 
ture,  and  we  began  to  warm  up  our  big  twenty- 
pounder  there  in  the  bow.  But  the  deadly 
scuds  of  iron  kept  flying  over  and  upon  our 
deck,  bursting  into  awful  showers  of  bolt  and 
chain  and  spike  and  hammerheads.  We  saw 
shortly  that  our  brig  was  badly  out  of  gear. 
She  began  to  drift  to  leeward,  and  being  unable 
to  aim  at  the  enemy,  we  could  make  no  use  of 
the  bow  gun.  Every  brace  and  bowline  cut 


D'RI  AND    I  238 

away,  her  canvas  torn  to  rags,  her  hull  shot 
through,  and  half  her  men  dead  or  wounded, 
she  was,  indeed,  a  sorry  sight.  The  Niagara 
went  by  on  the  safe  side  of  us,  heedless  of  our 
plight.  Perry  stood  near,  cursing  as  he  looked 
off  at  her.  Two  of  my  gunners  had  been  hurt 
by  bursting  canister.  D'ri  and  I  picked  them 
up,  and  made  for  the  cockpit.  D'ri's  man  kept 
howling  and  kicking.  As  we  hurried  over  the 
bloody  deck,  there  came  a  mighty  crash  beside 
us  and  a  burst  of  old  iron  that  tumbled  me  to 
my  knees. 

A  cloud  of  smoke  covered  us.  I  felt  the  man 
I  bore  struggle  and  then  go  limp  in  my  arms ;  I 
felt  my  knees  getting  warm  and  wet.  The 
smoke  rose ;  the  tall,  herculean  back  of  D'ri 
was  just  ahead  of  me.  His  sleeve  had  been 
ripped  away  from  shoulder  to  elbow,  and  a  spray 
of  blood  from  his  upper  arm  was  flying  back 
upon  me.  His  hat  crown  had  been  torn  off, 
and  there  was  a  big  rent  in  his  trousers,  but  he 
kept  going.  I  saw  my  man  had  been  killed  in 
my  arms  by  a  piece  of  chain,  buried  to  its  last 
link  in  his  breast.  I  was  so  confused  by  the 
shock  of  it  all  that  I  had  not  the  sense  to  lay 


D'RI  AND   I  239 

him  down,  but  followed  D'ri  to  the  cockpit.  He 
stumbled  on  the  stairs,  falling  heavily  with  his 
burden.  Then  I  dropped  my  poor  gunner  and 
helped  them  carry  D'ri  to  a  table,  where  they 
bade  me  lie  down  beside  him. 

"  It  is  no  time  for  jesting,"  said  I,  with  some 
dignity. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  the  surgeon  answered, 
"your  wound  is  no  jest.  You  are  not  fit  for 
duty." 

I  looked  down  at  the  big  hole  in  my  trousers 
and  the  cut  in  my  thigh,  of  which  I  had  known 
nothing  until  then.  I  had  no  sooner  seen  it 
and  the  blood  than  I  saw  that  I  also  was  in 
some  need  of  repair,  and  lay  down  with  a  quick 
sense  of  faintness.  My  wound  was  no  pretty 
thing  to  see,  but  was  of  little  consequence,  a 
missile  having  torn  the  surface  only.  I  was 
able  to  help  Surgeon  Usher  as  he  caught  the 
severed  veins  and  bathed  the  bloody  strands  of 
muscle  in  D'ri's  arm,  while  another  dressed  my 
thigh.  That  room  was  full  of  the  wounded, 
some  lying  on  the  floor,  some  standing,  some 
stretched  upon  cots  and  tables.  Every  moment 
they  were  crowding  down  the  companionway 


D'RI  AND    I  240 

with  others.  The  cannonading  was  now  so 
close  and  heavy  that  it  gave  me  an  ache  in  the 
ears,  but  above  its  quaking  thunder  I  could  hear 
the  shrill  cries  of  men  sinking  to  hasty  death  in 
the  grip  of  pain.  The  brig  was  in  sore  distress, 
her  timbers  creaking,  snapping,  quivering,  like 
one  being  beaten  to  death,  his  bones  cracking, 
his  muscles  pulping  under  heavy  blows.  We 
were  above  water-line  there  in  the  cockpit ;  we 
could  feel  her  flinch  and  stagger.  On  her  side 
there  came  suddenly  a  crushing  blow,  as  if  some 
great  hammer,  swung  far  in  the  sky,  had  come 
down  upon  her.  I  could  hear  the  split  and 
break  of  heavy  timbers ;  I  could  see  splinters 
flying  over  me  in  a  rush  of  smoke,  and  the  legs 
of  a  man  go  bumping  on  the  beams  above. 
Then  came  another  crash  of  timbers  on  the  port 
side.  I  leaped  off  the  table  and  ran,  limping, 
to  the  deck,  I  do  not  know  why ;  I  was  driven 
by  some  quick  and  irresistible  impulse.  I  was 
near  out  of  my  head,  anyway,  with  the  rage  of 
battle  in  me  and  no  chance  to  fight.  Well,  sud 
denly,  I  found  myself  stumbling,  with  drawn 
sabre,  over  heaps  of  the  hurt  and  dead  there  on 
our  reeking  deck.  It  was  a  horrible  place: 


D'RI  AND    I  241 

everything  tipped  over,  man  and  gun  and  mast 
and  bulwark.  The  air  was  full  of  smoke,  but 
near  me  I  could  see  a  topsail  of  the  enemy. 
Balls  were  now  plunging  in  the  water  alongside, 
the  spray  drenching  our  deck.  Some  poor  man 
lying  low  among  the  dead  caught  me  by  the 
boot-leg  with  an  appealing  gesture.  I  took  hold 
of  his  collar,  dragging  him  to  the  cockpit.  The 
surgeon  had  just  finished  with  D'ri.  His  arm 
was  now  in  sling  and  bandages.  He  was  lying 
on  his  back,  the  good  arm  over  his  face.  There 
was  a  lull  in  the  cannonading.  I  went  quickly 
to  his  side. 

"How  are  you  feeling?"  I  asked,  giving  his 
hand  a  good  grip. 

"  Nuthin'  t'  brag  uv,"  he  answered.  "  Never 
see  nobody  git  hell  rose  with  'em  s'  quick  es  we 
did  —  never." 

Just  then  we  heard  the  voice  of  Perry.  He 
stood  on  the  stairs  calling  into  the  cockpit. 

"  Can  any  wounded  man  below  there  pull  a 
rope  ?  "  he  shouted. 

D'ri  was  on  his  feet  in  a  jiffy,  and  we  were 
both  clambering  to  the  deck  as  another  scud  of 
junk  went  over  us.  Perry  was  trying,  with 


D'RI  AND   I  242 

block  and  tackle,  to  mount  a  carronade.  A 
handful  of  men  were  helping  him.  D'ri  rushed 
to  the  ropes,  I  following,  and  we  both  pulled 
with  a  will.  A  sailor  who  had  been  hit  in  the 
legs  hobbled  up,  asking  for  room  on  the  rope. 
I  told  him  he  could  be  of  no  use,  but  he  spat  an 
oath,  and  pointing  at  my  leg,  which  was  now 
bleeding,  swore  he  was  sounder  than  I,  and  put 
up  his  fists  to  prove  it.  I  have  seen  no  better 
show  of  pluck  in  all  my  fighting,  nor  any  that 
ever  gave  me  a  greater  pride  of  my  own  people 
and  my  country.  War  is  a  great  evil,  I  begin 
to  think,  but  there  is  nothing  finer  than  the  sight 
of  a  man  who,  forgetting  himself,  rushes  into 
the  shadow  of  death  for  the  sake  of  something 
that  is  better.  At  every  heave  on  the  rope 
our  blood  came  out  of  us,  until  a  ball  shat 
tered  a  pulley,  and  the  gun  fell.  Perry  had 
then  a  fierce  look,  but  his  words  were  cool,  his 
manner  dauntless.  He  peered  through  lifting 
clouds  of  smoke  at  our  line.  He  stood  near  me, 
and  his  head  was  bare.  He  crossed  the  littered 
deck,  his  battle-flag  and  broad  pennant  that  an 
orderly  had  brought  him  trailing  from  his  shoul 
der.  He  halted  by  a  boat  swung  at  the  davits 


"/?>/,  sJ taking  a  bloody,  tattered  flag,  sJ touted '. 
1  We  II  tek  care  o   tJie  oT  brig.'  " 


D'RI  AND   I  243 

on  the  port  side  —  the  only  one  that  had  not 
gone  to  splinters.  There  he  called  a  crew  about 
him,  and  all  got  quickly  aboard  the  boat  —  seven 
besides  the  younger  brother  of  Captain  Perry 
—  and  lowered  it.  Word  flew  that  he  was  leav 
ing  to  take  command  of  the  sister  brig,  the 
Niagara,  which  lay  off  a  quarter  of  a  mile  or  so 
from  where  we  stood.  We  all  wished  to  go, 
but  he  would  have  only  sound  men ;  there  were 
not  a  dozen  on  the  ship  who  had  all  their  blood 
in  them.  As  they  pulled  away,  Perry  standing 
in  the  stern,  D'ri  lifted  a  bloody,  tattered  flag, 
and  leaning  from  the  bulwarks,  shook  it  over 
them,  cheering  loudly. 

"  Give  'em  hell !  "  he  shouted.  "  We  '11  tek 
care  o'  the  ol'  brig." 

We  were  all  crying,  we  poor  devils  that  were 
left  behind.  One,  a  mere  boy,  stood  near  me 
swinging  his  hat  above  his  head,  cheering.  Hat 
and  hand  fell  to  the  deck  as  I  turned  to  him. 
He  was  reeling,  when  D'ri  caught  him  quickly 
with  his  good  arm  and  bore  him  to  the  cockpit* 

The  little  boat  was  barely  a  length  off  when 
heavy  shot  fell  splashing  in  her  wake.  Soon 
they  were  dropping  all  around  her.  One  crossed 


D'RI  AND   I  244 

her  bow,  ripping  a  long  furrow  in  the  sea.  A 
chip  flew  off  her  stern ;  a  lift  of  splinters  from 
an  oar  scattered  behind  her.  Plunging  missiles 
marked  her  course  with  a  plait  of  foam,  but  she 
rode  on  bravely.  We  saw  her  groping  under 
the  smoke  clouds  ;  we  saw  her  nearing  the  other 
brig,  and  were  all  on  tiptoe.  The  air  cleared 
a  little,  and  we  could  see  them  ship  oars  and 
go  up  the  side.  Then  we  set  our  blood  drip 
ping  with  cheers  again,  we  who  were  wounded 
there  on  the  deck  of  the  Lawrence.  Lieuten 
ant  Yarnell  ordered  her  one  flag  down.  As  it 
sank  fluttering,  we  groaned.  Our  dismay  went 
quickly  from  man  to  man.  Presently  we  could 
hear  the  cries  of  the  wounded  there  below.  A 
man  came  staggering  out  of  the  cockpit,  and 
fell  to  his  hands  and  knees,  creeping  toward  us 
and  protesting  fiercely,  the  blood  dripping  from 
his  mouth  between  curses. 

"  Another  shot  would  sink  her,"  Yarnell 
shouted. 

"Let  'er  sink,  d— n  'er,"  said  D'ri.  "Wish 
t'  God  I  c'u'd  put  my  foot  through  'er  bottom. 
When  the  flag  goes  down  I  wan'  t'  go  tew." 

The  British  turned  their  guns;  we  were  no 


D'RI  AND   I  245 

longer  in  the  smoky  paths  of  thundering  can 
ister.  The  Niagara  was  now  under  fire.  We 
could  see  the  dogs  of  war  rushing  at  her  in 
leashes  of  flame  and  smoke.  Our  little  gun 
boats,  urged  by  oar  and  sweep,  were  hastening 
to  the  battle  front.  We  could  see  their  men, 
waist-high  above  bulwarks,  firing  as  they  came. 
The  Detroit  and  the  Queen  Charlotte,  two  heavy 
brigs  of  the  British  line,  had  run  afoul  of  each 
other.  The  Niagara,  signalling  for  close  action, 
bore  down  upon  them.  Crossing  the  bow  of 
one  ship  and  the  stern  of  the  other,  she  raked 
them  with  broadsides.  We  saw  braces  fly  and 
masts  fall  in  the  volley.  The  Niagara  sheered 
off,  pouring  shoals  of  metal  on  a  British  schooner, 
stripping  her  bare.  Our  little  boats  had  come 
up,  and  were  boring  into  the  brigs.  In  a  brief 
time  —  it  was  then  near  three  o'clock  —  a  white 
flag,  at  the  end  of  a  boarding-pike,  fluttered 
over  a  British  deck.  D'ri,  who  had  been  sitting 
awhile,  was  now  up  and  cheering  as  he  waved 
his  crownless  hat.  He  had  lent  his  flag,  and,^in 
the  flurry,  some  one  dropped  it  overboard.  D'ri 
saw  it  fall,  and  before  we  could  stop  him  he  had 
leaped  into  the  sea.  I  hastened  to  his  help, 


D'RI  AND   I  246 

tossing  a  rope's  end  as  he  came  up,  swimming 
with  one  arm,  the  flag  in  his  teeth.  I  towed 
him  to  the  landing-stair  and  helped  him  over. 
Leaning  on  my  shoulder,  he  shook  out  the 
tattered  flag,  its  white  laced  with  his  own  blood. 

"  Ready  t'  jump  in  hell  fer  thet  ol'  rag  any 
day,"  said  he,  as  we  all  cheered  him. 

Each  grabbed  a  tatter  of  the  good  flag,  press 
ing  hard  upon  D'ri,  and  put  it  to  his  lips  and 
kissed  it  proudly.  Then  we  marched  up  and 
down,  D'ri  waving  it  above  us  —  a  bloody  squad 
as  ever  walked,  shouting  loudly.  D'ri  had  be 
gun  to  weaken  with  loss  of  blood,  so  I  coaxed 
him  to  go  below  with  me. 

The  battle  was  over ;  a  Yankee  band  was 
playing  near  by. 

"  Perry  is  coming !  Perry  is  coming  !  "  we 
heard  them  shouting  above. 

A  feeble  cry  that  had  in  it  pride  and  joy  and 
inextinguishable  devotion  passed  many  a  fevered 
lip  in  the  cockpit. 

There  were  those  near  who  had  won  a  better 
peace,  and  they  lay  as  a  man  that  listens  to 
what  were  now  the  merest  vanity. 

Perry  came,  when  the  sun  was  low,  with  a 


D'RI  AND   I  247 

number  of  British  officers,  and  received  their 
surrender  on  his  own  bloody  deck.  I  remember, 
as  they  stood  by  the  ruined  bulwarks  and  looked 
down  upon  tokens  of  wreck  and  slaughter,  a  dog 
began  howling  dismally  in  the  cockpit. 


XVIII  248 

T  was  a  lucky  and  a  stubborn 
sea-fight.  More  blood  to  the 
number  I  never  saw  than  fell 
on  the  Lawrence,  eighty-three 
of  our  hundred  and  two  men 
having  been  killed  or  laid  up  for  repair.  One 
has  to  search  a  bit  for  record  of  a  more  wicked 
fire.  But  we  deserve  not  all  the  glory  some 
histories  have  bestowed,  for  we  had  a  larger 
fleet  and  better,  if  fewer,  guns.  It  was,  however, 
a  thing  to  be  proud  of,  that  victory  of  the 
young  captain.  Our  men,  of  whom  many  were 
raw  recruits,  —  farmers  and  woodsmen,  —  stood 
to  their  work  with  splendid  valor,  and,  for  us 
in  the  North,  it  came  near  being  decisive.  D'ri 
and  I  were  so  put  out  of  business  that  no  part 
of  the  glory  was  ours,  albeit  we  were  praised 
in  orders  for  valor  under  fire.  But  for  both  I 
say  we  had  never  less  pride  of  ourselves  in  any 


D'RI  AND   I  249 

affair  we  had  had  to  do  with.  Well,  as  I 
have  said  before,  we  were  ever  at  our  best  with 
a  sabre,  and  big  guns  were  out  of  our  line. 

We  went  into  hospital  awhile,  D'ri  having 
caught  cold  and  gone  out  of  his  head  with  fever. 
We  had  need  of  a  spell  on  our  backs,  for  what 
with  all  our  steeplechasing  over  yawning  graves 
—  that  is  the  way  I  always  think  of  it  —  we 
were  somewhat  out  of  breath.  No  news  had 
reached  me  of  the  count  or  the  young  ladies, 
and  I  took  some  worry  to  bed  with  me,  but  was 
up  in  a  week  and  ready  for  more  trouble.  I 
had  to  sit  with  D'ri  awhile  before  he  could 
mount  a  horse. 

September  was  nearing  its  last  day  when  we 
got  off  a  brig  at  the  Harbor.  .  We  were  no 
sooner  at  the  dock  than  some  one  began  to  tell 
us  of  a  new  plan  for  the  invasion  of  Canada. 
I  knew  Brown  had  had  no  part  in  it,  for  he  said 
in  my  hearing  once  that  it  was  too  big  a  chunk 
to  bite  off. 

There  were  letters  from  the  count  and  The- 
rese,  his  daughter.  They  had  news  for  me,  and 
would  I  not  ride  over  as  soon  as  I  had  returned? 
My  mother  —  dearest  and  best  of  mothers  —  had 


D'RI  AND   I  250 

written  me,  and  her  tenderness  cut  me  like  a 
sword  for  the  way  I  had  neglected  her.  Well, 
it  is  ever  so  with  a  young  man  whose  heart  has 
found  a  new  queen.  I  took  the  missive  with 
wet  eyes  to  our  good  farmer-general  of  the 
North.  He  read  it,  and  spoke  with  feeling  of 
his  own  mother  gone  to  her  long  rest. 

"Bell,"  said  he,  "you  are  worn  out.  After 
mess  in  the  morning  mount  your  horses,  you  and 
the  corporal,  and  go  and  visit  them.  Report 
here  for  duty  on  October  16." 

Then,  as  ever  after  a  kindness,  he  renewed 
his  quid  of  tobacco,  turning  quickly  to  the 
littered  desk  at  headquarters. 

We  mounted  our  own  horses  a  fine,  frosty 
morning.  The  white  earth  glimmered  in  the 
first  touch  of  sunlight.  All  the  fairy  lanterns 
of  the  frost  king,  hanging  in  the  stubble  and  the 
dead  grass,  glowed  a  brief  time,  flickered  faintly, 
and  went  out.  Then  the  brown  sward  lay  bare, 
save  in  the  shadows  of  rock  or  hill  or  forest  that 
were  still  white.  A  great  glory  had  fallen  over 
the  far-reaching  woods.  Looking  down  a  long 
valley,  we  could  see  towers  of  evergreen,  ter 
races  of  red  and  brown,  golden  steeple-tops, 


D'RI  AND   I  251 

gilded  domes  minareted  with  lavender  and 
purple  and  draped  with  scarlet  banners.  It 
seemed  as  if  the  trees  were  shriving  after  all 
the  green  riot  of  summer,  and  making  ready  for 
sackcloth  and  ashes.  Some  stood  trembling, 
and  as  if  drenched  in  their  own  blood.  Now 
and  then  a  head  was  bare  and  bent,  and 
naked  arms  were  lifted  high,  as  if  to  implore 
mercy. 

"  Fine  air,"  said  I,  breathing  deep  as  we  rode 
on  slowly. 

"  'T  is  sart'n,"  said  D'ri.  "  Mother  used  t'  say 
'at  the  frost  wus  only  the  breath  o'  angels,  an' 
when  it  melted  it  gin  us  a  leetle  o'  the  air  o' 
heaven." 

Of  earth  or  heaven,  it  quickened  us  all  with  a 
new  life.  The  horses  fretted  for  their  heads, 
and  went  off  at  a  gallop,  needing  no  cluck  or 
spur.  We  pulled  up  at  the  chateau  well  before 
the  luncheon  hour.  D'ri  took  the  horses,  and  I 
was  shown  to  the  library,  where  the  count  came 
shortly,  to  give  me  hearty  welcome. 

"  And  what  of  the  captives  ?  "  I  inquired,  our 
greeting  over. 

"  Alas!  it  is  terrible ;  they  have  not  returned," 


D'RI  AND   I  252 

said  he,  "  and  I  am  in  great  trouble,  for  I  have 
not  written  to  France  of  their  peril.  Dieu !  I 
hoped  they  would  be  soon  released.  They  are 
well  and  now  we  have  good  news.  Eh  bien,  we 
hope  to  see  them  soon.  But  of  that  Therese 
shall  tell  you.  And  you  have  had  a  terrible 
time  on  Lake  Erie  ? " 

He  had  read  of  the  battle,  but  wanted  my 
view  of  it.  I  told  the  story  of  the  Lawrence 
and  Perry ;  of  what  D'ri  and  I  had  hoped  to  do, 
and  of  what  had  been  done  to  us.  My  account 
of  D'ri  —  his  droll  comment,  his  valor,  his  mis 
fortune —  touched  and  tickled  the  count.  He 
laughed,  he  clapped  his  hands,  he  shed  tears  of 
enthusiasm ;  then  he  rang  a  bell. 

"  The  M'sieur  D'ri  —  bring  him  here,"  said  he 
to  a  servant. 

D'ri  came  soon  with  a  worried  look,  his  trou 
sers  caught  on  his  boot-tops,  an  old  felt  hat  in 
his  hand.  Somehow  he  and  his  hat  were  as 
king  and  coronal  in  their  mutual  fitness ;  if  he 
lost  one,  he  swapped  for  another  of  about  the 
same  shade  and  shape.  His  brows  were  lifted, 
his  eyes  wide  with  watchful  timidity.  The 
count  had  opened  a  leather  case  and  taken  out 


D'RI  AND   I  253 

of  it  a  shiny  disk  of  silver.  He  stepped  to  D'ri, 
and  fastened  it  upon  his  waistcoat. 

"  *  Pour  la  valeur  eprouvee —  de  1'Empereur,'  " 
said  he,  reading  the  inscription  as  he  clapped 
him  on  the  shoulder.  "  It  was  given  to  a  sol 
dier  for  bravery  at  Austerlitz  by  the  great  Na 
poleon,"  said  he.  "And,  God  rest  him!  the 
soldier  he  died  of  his  wounds.  And  to  me  he 
have  left  the  medal  in  trust  for  some  man,  the 
most  brave,  intrepid,  honorable.  M'sieur  D'ri, 
I  have  the  pleasure  to  put  it  where  it  belong." 

D'ri  shifted  his  weight,  looking  down  at  the 
medal  and  blushing  like  a  boy. 

"  Much  obleeged,"  he  said  presently.  "  Dunno 
but  mebbe  I  better  put  it  'n  my  wallet.  'Fraid 
I  '11  lose  it  off  o'  there." 

He  threw  at  me  a  glance  of  inquiry. 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  do  not  bury  your  honors  in  a 
wallet." 

He  bowed  stiffly,  and,  as  he  looked  down  at 
the  medal,  went  away,  spurs  clattering. 

Therese  came  in  presently,  her  face  full  6f 
vivacity  and  color. 

"  M'sieur  le  Capitaine,"  said  she,  "  we  are 
going  for  a  little  ride,  the  marquis  and  I.  Will 


D'RI  AND   I  254 

you  come  with  us  ?  You  shall  have  the  best 
horse  in  the  stable." 

"  And  you  my  best  thanks  for  the  honor,"  I 
said. 

Our  horses  came  up  presently,  and  we  all 
made  off  at  a  quick  gallop.  The  forest  avenues 
were  now  aglow  and  filled  with  hazy  sunlight 
as  with  a  flood,  through  which  yellow  leaves 
were  slowly  sinking.  Our  horses  went  to  their 
fetlocks  in  a  golden  drift.  The  marquis  rode 
on  at  a  rapid  pace,  but  soon  The"rese  pulled 
rein,  I  keeping  abreast  of  her. 

In  a  moment  our  horses  were  walking  quietly. 

"You  have  news  for  me,  ma'm'selle?"  I 
remarked. 

"  Indeed,  I  have  much  news,"  said  she,  as 
always,  in  French.  "I  was  afraid  you  were  not 
coming  in  time,  m'sieur." 

She  took  a  dainty  letter  from  her  bosom, 
passing  it  to  me. 

My  old  passion  flashed  up  as  I  took  the  per 
fumed  sheets.  I  felt  my  heart  quicken,  my  face 
burn  with  it.  I  was  to  have  good  news  at  last 
of  those  I  loved  better  than  my  life,  those  I  had 
not  forgotten  a  moment  in  all  the  peril  of  war. 


D'RI  AND   I  255 

I  saw  the  handwriting  of  Louison  and  then  a 
vision  of  her  —  the  large  eyes,  the  supple, 
splendid  figure,  the  queenly  bearing.  It 
read :  — 


DEAR  THERESE:  At  last  they  promise  to 
return  us  to  you  on  the  I2th  of  October.  You 
are  to  send  two  men  for  us  —  not  more  —  to  the 
head  of  Eagle  Island,  off  Ste.  Roche,  in  the  St. 
Lawrence,  with  canoes,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the 
evening  of  that  day.  They  will  find  a  lantern 
hanging  on  a  tree  at  the  place  we  are  to  meet 
them.  We  may  be  delayed  a  little,  but  they 
are  to  wait  for  us  there.  And,  as  you  love  me, 
see  that  one  is  my  brave  captain  —  I  do  not  care 
about  the  other  who  comes.  First  of  all  I  wish 
to  see  my  emperor,  my  love,  the  tall,  handsome, 
and  gallant  youngster  who  has  won  me.  What 
a  finish  for  this  odd  romance  if  he  only  comes  ! 
And  then  I  do  wish  to  see  you,  the  count,  and 
the  others.  I  read  your  note  with  such  a  pleas 
ure  !  You  are  sure  that  he  loves  me  ?  And  that 
he  does  not  know  that  I  love  him  ?  I  do  not 
wish  him  to  know,  to  suspect,  until  he  has  asked 
me  to  be  his  queen  —  until  he  has  a  right  to 
know.  Once  he  has  my  secret,  Love  is  robbed 
of  his  best  treasure.  Mon  Dieu !  I  wish  to  tell 
him  myself,  sometime,  if  he  ever  has  the  cour- 


D'RI  AND   I  256 

age  to  take  command  of  me.  I  warn  you, 
Therese,  if  I  think  he  knows  —  when  I  see  him 
- 1  shall  be  cruel  to  him ;  I  shall  make  him 
hate  me.  So  you  see  I  will  not  be  cheated  of 
my  wooing,  and  I  know  you  would  not  endanger 
my  life's  happiness.  I  have  written  a  little  song 
—  for  him.  Well,  some  day  I  shall  sing  it  to 
him,  and  will  he  not  be  glad  to  know  I  could  do 
it  ?  Here  are  the  first  lines  to  give  you  the 
idea : — 

My  emperor  !  my  emperor  ! 

Thy  face  is  fair  to  see  ; 
Thy  house  is  old,  thy  heart  is  gold, 

Oh,  take  command  of  me  ! 

O  emperor  !  my  emperor  ! 

Thy  sceptre  is  of  God ; 
Through  all  my  days  I'll  sing  thy  praise, 

And  tremble  at  thy  nod. 

But,  dear  Therese,  you  ought  to  hear  the  music; 
I  have  quite  surprised  myself.  Indeed,  love  is 
a  grand  thing;  it  has  made  me  nobler  and 
stronger.  They  really  say  I  am  not  selfish  any 
more.  But  I  am  weary  of  waiting  here,  and  so 
eager  to  get  home.  You  are  in  love,  and  you 
have  been  through  this  counting  of  the  hours. 
We  are  very  comfortable  here,  and  they  let  us 
go  and  come  as  we  like  inside  the  high  walls. 


D'RI  AND   I  257 

I  have  told  you  there  is  a  big,  big  grove  and 
garden. 

"We  saw  nothing  of  *  his  Lordship '  for  weeks 
until  three  days  ago,  when  they  brought  him 
here  wounded.  That  is  the  reason  we  could 
not  send  you  a  letter  before  now.  You  know 
he  has  to  see  them  all  and  arrange  for  their 
delivery.  Well,  he  sent  for  Louise  that  day  he 
came.  She  went  to  him  badly  frightened,  poor 
thing !  as,  indeed,  we  all  were.  He  lay  in  bed 
helpless,  and  wept  when  he  saw  her.  She  came 
back  crying,  and  would  not  tell  what  he  had 
said.  I  do  think  he  loves  her  very  dearly,  and 
somehow  we  are  all  beginning  to  think  better  of 
him.  Surely  no  one  could  be  more  courteous  and 
gallant.  Louise  went  to  help  nurse  him  yester 
day,  dear,  sweet  little  mother !  Then  he  told  her 
the  good  news  of  our  coming  release,  where 
your  men  would  meet  us,  and  all  as  I  have 
written.  He  is  up  in  his  chair  to-day,  the  maid 
tells  me.  I  joked  Louise  about  him  this  morn 
ing,  and  she  began  to  cry  at  once,  and  said  her 
heart  was  not  hers  to  give.  The  sly  thing !  I 
wonder  whom  she  loves ;  but  she  would  say  no 
more,  and  has  had  a  long  face  all  day.  She^  is 
so  stubborn !  I  have  sworn  I  will  never  tell 
her  another  of  my  secrets.  You  are  to  answer 
quickly,  sending  your  note  by  courier  to  the 
Indian  dockman  at  Elizabethport,  addressed 


D'RI  AND  I  258 

Robin  Adair,  Box  40,  St.  Hiliere,  Canada.    And 
the  love  of  all  to  all.     Adieu. 

"  Your  loving 

"  LOUISON. 

"  P.S.  Can  you  tell  me,  is  the  captain  of  noble 
birth  ?  I  have  never  had  any  doubt  of  it,  he  is 
so  splendid." 

It  filled  me  with  a  great  happiness  and  a 
bitter  pang.  I  was  never  in  such  a  conflict  of 
emotion. 

"Well,"  said  Thdrese,  "do  you  see  my  trouble? 
Having  shown  you  the  first  letter,  I  had  also 
to  show  you  the  second.  I  fear  I  have  done 
wrong.  My  soul  —  " 

"  Be  blessed  for  the  good  tidings,"  I  inter 
rupted. 

"  Thanks.  I  was  going  to  say  it  accuses  me. 
Louison  is  a  proud  girl ;  she  must  never  know. 
She  can  never  know  unless  —  " 

"You  tell  her,"  said  I,  quickly.  "And  of 
course  you  will." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  she  asked. 

"  That  every  secret  that  must  not  be  told  is 
the  same  as  published  if — if  —  " 


D'RI  AND   I  259 


"  If  —  if  it  tells  a  pretty  story  with  some  love 
in  it,"  I  said,  with  a  quick  sense  of  caution. 
"  Ah,  ma'm'selle,  do  I  not  know  what  has  made 
your  lips  so  red  ?  " 

"  What  may  it  be  ?  " 

"  The  attrition  of  many  secrets  —  burning 
secrets,"  I  said,  laughing. 

"  Mordieu  !  what  charming  impudence  !  " 
said  she,  her  large  eyes  glowing  thoughtfully, 
with  some  look  of  surprise.  "  You  do  not  know 
me,  m'sieur.  I  have  kept  many  secrets  and 
know  the  trick." 

"Ah,  then  I  shall  ask  of  you  a  great  favor," 
said  I  —  "  that  you  keep  my  secret  also,  that 
you  do  not  tell  her  of  my  love." 

She  wheeled  her  horse  with  a  merry  peal 
of  laughter,  hiding  her  face,  now  red  as  her 
glove. 

"  It  is  too  late,"  said  she.  "  I  have  written 
her." 

We  rode  on,  laughing.  In  spite  of  the  se-ri- 
ous  character  of  her  words,  I  fell  a-quaking 
from  crown  to  stirrup.  I  was  now  engaged 
to  Louison,  or  as  good  as  that,  and,  being  a 


D'RI  AND   I  260 

man  of  honor,  I  must  think  no  more  of  her 
sister. 

"  I  wrote  her  of  your  confession,"  said  she, 
"  for  I  knew  it  would  make  her  so  happy ;  but, 
you  know,  I  did  not  tell  of  —  of  the  circum 
stances." 

"Well,  it  will  make  it  all  the  easier  for  me," 
I  said.  "  Ma'm'selle,  I  assure  you  —  I  am  not 
sorry." 

"  And,  my  friend,  you  are  lucky :  she  is  so 
magnificent." 

"  Her  face  will  be  a  study  when  I  tell  her." 

"  The  splendor  of  it !  "  said  she. 

"And  the  surprise,"  I  added,  laughing. 

"  Ah,  m'sieur,  she  will  play  her  part  well. 
She  is  clever.  That  moment  when  the  true 
love  comes  and  claims  her  it  is  the  sweetest 
in  a  woman's  life." 

A  thought  came  flying  through  my  brain 
with  the  sting  of  an  arrow. 

"  She  must  not  be  deceived.  I  have  not  any 
noble  blood  in  me.  I  am  only  the  son  of  a  sol 
dier-farmer,  and  have  my  fortune  to  make,"  said 
I,  quickly. 

"That  is  only  a  little   folly,"  she  answered, 


D'RI  AND   I  261 

laughing.  "  Whether  you  be  rich  or  poor, 
prince  or  peasant,  she  cares  not  a  snap  of  her 
finger.  Ciel !  is  she  not  a  republican,  has  she 
not  money  enough  ?  " 

"  Nevertheless,  I  beg  you  to  say,  in  your 
letter,  that  I  have  nothing  but  my  sword  and 
my  honor." 

As  we  rode  along  I  noted  in  my  book  the 
place  and  time  we  were  to  meet  the  captives. 
The  marquis  joined  us  at  the  Hermitage,  where 
a  stable-boy  watered  our  horses.  Three  ser 
vants  were  still  there,  the  others  being  now  in 
the  count's  service. 

If  any  place  give  me  a  day's  happiness  it  is 
dear  to  me,  and  the  where  I  find  love  is  forever 
sacred.  I  like  to  stand  where  I  stood  thinking 
of  it,  and  there  I  see  that  those  dear  moments 
are  as  much  a  part  of  me  as  of  history.  So 
while  Therese  and  the  marquis  got  off  their 
horses  for  a  little  parley  with  the  gardener,  I 
cantered  up  the  north  trail  to  where  I  sat 
awhile  that  delightful  summer  day  with  Louise. 
The  grotto  had  now  a  lattice  roofing  of  bare 
branches.  Leaves,  as  red  as  her  blush,  as 
golden  as  my  memories,  came  rattling  through 


D'RI  AND   I  262 

it,  falling  with  a  faint  rustle.  The  big  woods 
were  as  a  gloomy  and  deserted  mansion,  with 
the  lonely  cry  of  the  wind  above  and  a  ghostly 
rustle  within  where  had  been  love  and  song  and 
laughter  and  all  delight 


XIX  263 

.'RI  and  I  left  the  chateau  that 
afternoon,  putting  up  in  the 
red  tavern  at  Morristown  about 
dusk. 

My  companion  rode  away 
proudly,  the  medal  dangling  at  his  waistcoat 
lapel. 

"Jerushy  Jane!"  said  he,  presently,  as  he 
pulled  rein.  "  Ain't  a-goin'  t'  hev  thet  floppin' 
there  so  —  meks  me  feel  luk  a  bird.  Don't 
seem  nohow  nat'ral.  Wha'  d'  ye  s'pose  he  gin 
me  thet  air  thing  fer  ?  " 

He  was  putting  it  away  carefully  in  his 
wallet. 

"As  a  token  of  respect  for  your  bravery," 
said  I. 

His  laughter  roared  in  the  still  woods,  making 
my  horse  lift  and  snort  a  little.  It  was  never  an 
easy  job  to  break  any  horse  to  D'ri's  laughter. 


D'RI  AND   I  264 

"It's  reedic'lous"  said  he,  thoughtfully,  in  a 
moment. 

"Why?" 

"  '  Cause  f er  the  reason  why  they  don't  no  man 
deserve  nuthin'  fer  doin'  what  he  'd  orter,"  he 
answered,  with  a  serious  and  determined  look. 

"  You  did  well,"  said  I,  "  and  deserve  anything 
you  can  get." 

"  Done  my  damdest !  "  said  he.  "  But  I  did  n't 
do  nuthin'  but  git  licked.  Got  shot  an'  tore 
an'  slammed  all  over  thet  air  deck,  an'  could  n't 
do  no  harm  t'  nobody.  Jes  luk  a  hoss  tied  'n 
the  stall,  an'  a  lot  o'  men  whalin'  'im,  an'  a  lot 
more  tryin'  t'  scare  'im  t'  death." 

"  Wha'  d'  ye  s'pose  thet  air  thing  's  made  uv  ? " 
he  inquired  after  a  little  silence. 

"  Silver,"  said  I. 

"  Pure  silver  ?  " 

"  Undoubtedly,"  was  my  answer. 

"  Judas  Priest !  "  said  he,  taking  out  his  wallet 
again,  to  look  at  the  trophy.  "  Thet  air  mus'  be 
wuth  suthin'." 

"  More  than  a  year's  salary,"  said  I. 

He  looked  up  at  me  with  a  sharp  whistle  of 
surprise. 


D'RI  AND   I  265 

"  Ain'  no  great  hand  fer  sech  flummydiddles," 
said  he,  as  he  put  the  medal  away. 

"It's  a  badge  of  honor,"  said  I.  "It  shows 
you  're  a  brave  man." 

"  Got  'nough  on  'em,"  said  D'ri.  "  This  'ere 
rip  'n  the  forehead 's  'bout  all  the  badge  I  need." 

"  It 's  from  the  emperor — the  great  Napoleon," 
I  said.  "  It 's  a  mark  of  his  pleasure." 

"Wall,  by  Judas  Priest!"  said  D'ri,  "I 
would  n't  jump  over  a  stump  over  a  stun  wall 
t'  please  no  emp'ror,  an'  I  wouldn't  cut  off 
my  leetle  finger  fer  a  hull  bushel  basket  o' 
them  air.  I  hain't  a-fightin'  fer  no  honor." 

"What  then?"  said  I. 

His  face  turned  very  sober.  He  pursed  his 
lips,  and  spat  across  the  ditch ;  then  he  gave 
his  mouth  a  wipe,  and  glanced  thoughtfully  at 
the  sky. 

"  Fer  liberty,"  said  he,  with  decision.  "  Same 
thing  my  father  died  fer." 

Not  to  this  day  have  I  forgotten  it,  the  answer 
of  old  D'ri,  or  the  look  of  him  as  he  spoke.  *  I 
was  only  a  reckless  youth  fighting  for  the  love 
of  peril  and  adventure,  and  with  too  little 
thought  of  the  high  purposes  of  my  country. 


D'RI  AND   I  266 

The  causes  of  the  war  were  familiar  to  me ; 
that  proclamation  of  Mr.  Madison  had  been 
discussed  freely  in  our  home,  and  I  had  felt 
some  share  in  the  indignation  of  D'ri  and  my 
father.  This  feeling  had  not  been  allayed  by 
the  bloody  scenes  in  which  I  had  had  a  part. 
Now  I  began  to  feel  the  great  passion  of  the 
people,  and  was  put  to  shame  for  a  moment. 

"  Liberty  —  that  is  a  grand  thing  to  fight  for," 
said  I,  after  a  brief  pause. 

"  Swap  my  blood  any  time  fer  thet  air,"  said 
D'ri.  "  I  can  fight  sassy,  but  not  fer  no  king 
but  God  A'mighty.  Don't  pay  t'  git  all  tore 
up  less  it 's  fer  suthin'  purty  middlin'  vallyble. 
My  life  ain't  wuth  much,  but,  ye  see,  I  hain't 
nuthin'  else." 

We  rode  awhile  in  sober  thought,  hearing  only 
a  sough  of  the  wind  above  and  the  rustling  hoof- 
beat  of  our  horses  in  the  rich  harvest  of  the  autumn 
woods.  We  were  walking  slowly  over  a  stretch 
of  bare  moss  when,  at  a  sharp  turn,  we  came 
suddenly  in  sight  of  a  huge  bear  that  sat  facing 
us.  I  drew  my  pistol  as  we  pulled  rein,  firing 
quickly.  The  bear  ran  away  into  the  brush  as 
I  fired  another  shot. 


D'RI  AND  I  267 

"  He  's  hit,"  said  D'ri,  leaping  off  and  bidding 
me  hold  the  bit.  Then,  with  a  long  stride,  he 
ran  after  the  fleeing  bear.  I  had  been  waiting 
near  half  an  hour  when  D'ri  came  back  slowly, 
with  a  downhearted  look. 

"'Tain'  no  use,"  said  he.  "  Can't  never  git 
thet  bear.  He  's  got  a  flesh-wound  high  up  in 
his  hin'  quarters,  an'  he's  travellin'  fast." 

He  took  a  fresh  chew  of  tobacco  and  mounted 
his  horse. 

"  Terrible  pity !  "  he  exclaimed,  shaking  his 
head  with  some  trace  of  lingering  sorrow. 
"  Ray,"  said  he,  soberly,  after  a  little  silence, 
"when  ye  see  a  bear  lookin'  your  way,  ef  ye 
want  'im,  alwus  shute  at  the  end  thet's  toward 
ye." 

There  was  no  better  bear-hunter  in  the  north 
woods  than  D'ri,  and  to  lose  a  bear  was,  for  him, 
no  light  affliction. 

"  Can't  never  break  a  bear's  neck  by  shutin' 
'im  in  the  hin'  quarters,"  he  remarked. 

I  made  no  answer. 

"  Might  jest  es  well  spit  'n  'is  face,"  he  added 
presently  ;  "  jest  eggzac'ly." 

This  apt  and  forceful  advice  calmed  a  linger- 


D'RI  AND   I  268 

ing  sense  of  duty,  and  he  rode  on  awhile  in 
silence.  The  woods  were  glooming  in  the 
early  dusk  when  he  spoke  again.  Something 
revived  his  contempt  of  my  education.  He  had 
been  trailing  after  me,  and  suddenly  I  felt  his 
knee. 

"  Tell  ye  this,  Ray,"  said  he,  in  a  kindly  tone. 
"  Ef  ye  wan'  t'  git  a  bear,  got  t'  mux  'im  up  a 
leetle  for'ard —  right  up  'n  the  neighborhood 
uv  'is  fo'c's'le.  Don't  dew  no  good  t'  shute  'is 
hams.  Might  es  well  try  t'  choke  'im  t'  death 
by  pinchin'  'is  tail." 

We  were  out  in  the  open.  Roofs  and  smok 
ing  chimneys  were  silhouetted  on  the  sky,  and, 
halfway  up  a  hill,  we  could  see  the  candle 
lights  of  the  red  tavern.  There,  in  the  bar, 
before  blazing  logs  in  a  great  fireplace,  for 
the  evening  had  come  chilly,  a  table  was  laid 
for  us,  and  we  sat  down  with  hearty  happiness 
to  tankards  of  old  ale  and  a  smoking  haunch. 
I  have  never  drunk  or  eaten  with  a  better 
relish.  There  were  half  a  dozen  or  so  sitting 
about  the  bar,  and  all  ears  were  for  news  of 
the  army  and  all  hands  for  our  help.  If  we 
asked  for  more  potatoes  or  ale,  half  of  them 


D'RI  AND   I  269 

rose  to  proclaim  it.  Between  pipes  of  Virginia 
tobacco,  and  old  sledge,  and  songs  of  love 
and  daring,  we  had  a  memorable  night.  When 
we  went  to  our  room,  near  twelve  o'clock,  I  told 
D'ri  of  our  dear  friends,  who,  all  day,  had  been 
much  in  my  thought. 

"  Wus  the  letter  writ  by  her  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Not  a  doubt  of  it." 

"  Then  it 's  all  right,"  said  he.  "  A  likely  pair 
o'  gals  them  air —  no  mistake." 

"  But  I  think  they  made  me  miss  the  bear,"  I 
answered. 

"  Ray,"  said  D'ri,  soberly,  "  when  yer  shutin'  a 
bear,  ef  ye  want  'im,  don't  never  think  o'  nuthin' 
but  the  bear."  Then,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
he  added  :  "  Won't  never  hev  no  luck  killin'  a 
bear  ef  ye  don'  quit  dwellin'  so  on  them  air 
gals." 

I  thanked  him,  with  a  smile,  and  asked  if  he 
knew  Eagle  Island. 

"  Be'n  all  over  it  half  a  dozen  times,"  said  he. 
"  'T  ain'  no  more  'n  twenty  rod  from  the  Yankee 
shore,  thet  air  island  ain't.  We  c'u'd  paddle 
there  in  a  day  from  our  cove." 

And  that  was  the  way  we  planned  to  go,  — 


D'RI  AND   I  270 

by  canoe  from  our  landing, — and  wait  for  the 
hour  at  Paleyville,  a  Yankee  village  opposite 
the  island.  We  would  hire  a  team  there,  and 
convey  the  party  by  wagon  to  Leraysville. 

We  were  off  at  daybreak,  and  going  over  the 
hills  at  a  lively  gallop.  Crossing  to  Caraway 
Pike,  in  the  Cedar  Meadows,  an  hour  later,  we 
stampeded  a  lot  of  moose.  One  of  them,  a 
great  bull,  ran  ahead  of  us,  roaring  with  fright, 
his  antlers  rattling  upon  bush  and  bough,  his 
black  bell  hanging  to  the  fern-tops. 

"  Don'  never  wan' t'  hev  no  argyment  with  one 
o'  them  air  chaps  'less  ye  know  purty  nigh  how 
't  's  comin'  out,"  said  D'ri.  "  Alwus  want  a  gun 
es  well  es  a  purty  middlin'  ca-a-areful  aim  on 
your  side.  Then  ye  're  apt  t'  need  a  tree,  tew, 
'fore  ye  git  through  with  it."  After  a  moment's 
pause  he  added  :  "  Got  t'  be  a  joemightyful  stout 
tree,  er  he  '11  shake  ye  out  uv  it  luk  a  ripe  apple." 

"  They  always  have  the  negative  side  of  the 
question,"  I  said.  "Don't  believe  they'd  ever 
chase  a  man  if  he  'd  let  'em  alone." 

"  Yis,  siree,  they  would,"  was  D'ri's  answer. 
"  I  've  hed  'em  come  right  efter  me  'fore  ever  I 
c'u'd  lift  a  gun.  Ye  see,  they  're  jest  es  cur'us 


D'R  I  AND   I  271 

'bout  a  man  es  a  man  is  'bout  them.  Ef  they 
can't  smell  'im,  they  're  terrible  cur'us.  Jes' 
wan'  t'  see  what  's  inside  uv  'im  an'  what  kind 
uv  a  smellin'  critter  he  is.  Dunno  es  they  wan' t' 
dew'im  any  pertic'lar  harm.  Jes'  wan'  t'  mux 
'im  over  a  leetle  ;  but  they  dew  it  awful  careless, 
an'  he  ain't  never  fit  t'  be  seen  no  more." 

He  snickered  faintly  as  he  spoke. 

"  An'  they  don't  nobody  see  much  uv  'im  ef  ter 
thet,  nuther,"  he  added,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  'member  once  a  big  bull  tried  t'  find  out  the 
kind  o'  works  I  hed  in  me.  'T  wa'n'  no  moose  — 
jest  a  common  ord'nary  three-year-ol'  bull." 

"  Hurt  you  ?  "   I  queried. 

"No;  't  hurt  'im,"  said  he,  soberly.  "  Sp'ilt 
'im,  es  ye  might  say.  Could  n't  never  bear  the 
sight  uv  a  man  efter  thet.  Seem  so  he  did  n't 
think  he  wus  fit  t'  be  seen.  Nobody  c'u'd  ever 
git  'n  a  mild  o'  th'  poor  cuss.  Hed  t'  be  shot." 

"What  happened?" 

"Hed  a  stout  club  'n  my  hand,"  said  he. 
"  Got  holt  uv  'is  tail,  an'  begun  a-whalin'  uv  'ira. 
Run  'im  down  a  steep  hill,  an'  passin'  a  tree,  I 
tuk  one  side  an'  he  t'  other.  We  parted  there 
fer  the  las'  time." 


D'RI  AND   I  272 

He  looked  off  at  the  sky  a  moment. 

Then  came  his  inevitable  addendum,  which 
was :  "  I  hed  a  dam  sight  more  tail  'an  he  did, 
thet  's  sartin." 

About  ten  o'clock  we  came  in  sight  of  our  old 
home.  Then  we  hurried  our  horses,  and  came 
up  to  the  door  with  a  rush.  A  stranger  met  us 
there. 

"  Are  you  Captain  Bell  ? "  said  he,  as  I  got 
off  my  horse. 

I  nodded. 

"  I  am  one  of  your  father's  tenants,"  he  went 
on.  "  Ride  over  the  ridge  yonder  about  half  a 
mile,  and  you  will  see  his  house."  I  looked  at 
D'ri  and  he  at  me.  He  had  grown  pale  sud 
denly,  and  I  felt  my  own  surprise  turning  into 
alarm. 

"  Are  they  well  ?  "  I  queried. 

"Very  well,  and  looking  for  you,"  said  he, 
smiling. 

We  were  up  in  our  saddles,  dashing  out  of  the 
yard  in  a  jiffy.  Beyond  the  ridge  a  wide  mile 
of  smooth  country  sloped  to  the  river  margin. 
Just  off  the  road  a  great  house  lay  long  and  low 
in  fair  acres.  Its  gables  were  red-roofed,  its 


D'RI  AND   I  273 

walls  of  graystone  half  hidden  by  lofty  hedges 
of  cedar.  We  stopped  our  horses,  looking  off 
to  the  distant  woods  on  each  side  of  us. 

"  Can't  be,"  said  D'ri,  soberly,  his  eyes  squint 
ing  in  the  sunlight. 

"  Wonder  where  they  live,"  I  remarked. 

"All  looks  mighty  cur'us,"  said  he.  "'Tain' 
no  way  nat'ral." 

"  Let's  go  in  there  and  ask,"  I  suggested. 

We  turned  in  at  the  big  gate  and  rode  silently 
over  a  driveway  of  smooth  gravel  to  the  door. 
In  a  moment  I  heard  my  father's  hearty  hello, 
and  then  my  mother  came  out  in  a  better  gown 
than  ever  I  had  seen  her  wear.  I  was  out  of 
the  saddle  and  she  in  my  arms  before  a  word 
was  spoken.  My  father,  hardy  old  Yankee, 
scolded  the  stamping  horse,  while  I  knew  well 
he  was  only  upbraiding  his  own  weakness. 

"  Come,  Ray  ;  come,  Darius,"  said  my  mother, 
as  she  wiped  her  eyes ;  "  I  will  show  you  the 
new  house." 

A  man  took  the  horses,  and  we  all  followed 
her  into  the  splendid  hall,  while  I  was  filled  with 
wonder  and  a  mighty  longing  for  the  old  home. 


XX  274 

T  was  a  fine  house  —  that  in 
which  I  spent  many  happy  years 
back  in  my  young  manhood. 
Not,  indeed,  so  elegant  and  so 
large  as  this  where  I  am  now 
writing,  but  comfortable.  To  me,  then,  it  had 
an  atmosphere  of  romance  and  some  look  of 
grandeur.  Well,  in  those  days  I  had  neither 
a  sated  eye,  nor  gout,  nor  judgment  of  good 
wine.  It  was  I  who  gave  it  the  name  of 
Fairacres  that  day  when,  coming  out  of  the 
war,  we  felt  its  peace  and  comfort  for  the  first 
time,  and,  dumfounded  with  surprise,  heard  my 
mother  tell  the  story  of  it. 

"  My  grandfather,"  said  she,  "was  the  Cheva 
lier  Ramon  Ducet  de  Trouville,  a  brave  and 
gallant  man  who,  for  no  good  reason,  disin 
herited  my  father.  The  property  went  to  my 
uncle,  the  only  other  child  of  the  chevalier,  and 


D'RI  AND   I  275 

he,  as  I  have  told  you,  wrote  many  kind  letters 
to  me,  and  sent  each  year  a  small  gift  of  money. 
Well,  he  died  before  the  war,  — it  was  in  March, 
—  and,  having  no  children,  left  half  his  fortune 
to  me.  You,  Ramon,  will  remember  that  long 
before  you  went  away  to  the  war  a  stranger 
came  to  see  me  one  day  —  a  stout  man,  with 
white  hair  and  dark  eyes.  Do  you  not  remem 
ber  ?  Well,  I  did  not  tell  you  then,  because  I 
was  unable  to  believe,  that  he  came  to  bring 
the  good  news.  But  he  came  again  after  you 
left  us,  and  brought  me  money  —  a  draft  on 
account.  For  us  it  was  a  very  large  sum, 
indeed.  You  know  we  have  always  been  so 
poor,  and  we  knew  that  when  the  war  was  over 
there  would  be  more  and  a-plenty  coming.  So, 
what  were  we  to  do  ?  '  We  will  build  a  home,' 
said  I ;  '  we  will  enjoy  life  as  much  as  possible. 
We  will  surprise  Ramon.  When  he  returns 
from  the  war  he  shall  see  it,  and  be  very 
happy.'  The  architect  came  with  the  builders, 
and,  voila  !  the  house  is  ready,  and  you  are  here, 
and  after  so  long  it  is  better  than  a  fortune  to 
see  you.  I  thought  you  would  never  come." 
She  covered  her  face  a  moment,  while  my 


D'RI  AND   I  276 

father  rose  abruptly  and  left  the  room.  I 
kissed  the  dear  hands  that  long  since  had  given 
to  heavy  toil  their  beauty  and  shapeliness. 

But  enough  of  this,  for,  after  all,  it  is  neither 
here  nor  there.  Quick  and  unexpected  fortune 
came  to  many  a  pioneer,  as  it  came  to  my 
mother,  by  inheritance,  as  one  may  see  if  he 
look  only  at  the  records  of  one  court  of  claims 
-that  of  the  British. 

"  Before  long  you  may  wish  to  marry,"  said 
my  mother,  as  she  looked  up  at  me  proudly, 
"  and  you  will  not  be  ashamed  to  bring  your 
wife  here." 

I  vowed,  then  and  there,  I  should  make  my 
own  fortune,  —  I  had  Yankee  enough  in  me  for 
that,  —  but,  as  will  be  seen,  the  wealth  of  heart 
and  purse  my  mother  had,  helped  in  the  shaping 
of  my  destiny.  In  spite  of  my  feeling,  I  know 
it  began  quickly  to  hasten  the  life-currents  that 
bore  me  on.  And  I  say,  in  tender  remembrance 
of  those  very  dear  to  me,  I  had  never  a  more 
delightful  time  than  when  I  sat  by  the  new  fire 
side  with  all  my  clan,  —  its  number  as  yet  un- 
diminished,  —  or  went  roistering  in  wood  or 
field  with  the  younger  children. 


D'RI  AND   I 


277 


The  day  came  when  D'ri  and  I  were  to  meet 
the  ladies.  We  started  early  that  morning  of 
the  1 2th.  Long  before  daylight  we  were  mov 
ing  rapidly  down-river  in  our  canoes. 

I  remember  seeing  a  light  flash  up  and  die 
away  in  the  moonlit  mist  of  the  river  soon  after 
starting. 

"  The  boogy  light !  "  D'ri  whispered.  "There 
't  goes  ag'in  !  " 

I  had  heard  the  river  folk  tell  often  of  this 
weird  thing  —  one  of  the  odd  phenomena  of  the 
St.  Lawrence. 

"  Comes  alwus  where  folks  hev  been 
drownded,"  said  D'ri.  "  Thet  air  's  what  I  've 
hearn  tell." 

It  was,  indeed,  the  accepted  theory  of  the 
fishermen,  albeit  many  saw  in  the  boogy  light 
a  warning  to  mark  the  place  of  forgotten  mur 
der,  and  bore  away. 

The  sun  came  up  in  a  clear  sky,  and  soon, 
far  and  wide,  its  light  was  tossing  in  the  ripple- 
tops.  We  could  see  them  glowing  miles  away. 
We  were  both  armed  with  sabre  and  pistols, 
for  that  river  was  the  very  highway  of  adven 
ture  in  those  days  of  the  war. 


D'RI  AND   I  278 

"  Don'  jes'  like  this  kind  uv  a  boss,"  said 
D'ri.  "Got  t'  keep  whalin'  'im  all  the  while, 
an'  he  's  apt  t'  slobber  'n  rough  goin'." 

He  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  sun  a  breath, 
and  then  trimmed  his  remark  with  these  words : 
"Ain't  eggzac'ly  sure-footed,  nuther." 

"  Don't  require  much  feed,  though,"  I  sug 
gested. 

"  No ;  ye  hev  t'  dew  all  the  eatin',  but  ye  can 
alwus  eat  'nough  fer  both." 

It  was  a  fine  day,  and  a  ride  to  remember. 
We  had  a  warm  sun,  a  clear  sky,  and  now 
and  then  we  could  feel  the  soft  feet  of  the 
south  wind  romping  over  us  in  the  river  way. 
Here  and  there  a  swallow  came  coasting  to  the 
ripples,  sprinkling  the  holy  water  of  delight 
upon  us,  or  a  crow's  shadow  ploughed  silently 
across  our  bows.  It  thrilled  me  to  go  cantering 
beside  the  noisy  Rapides  du  Plats  or  the  wild- 
footed  Galloup,  two  troops  of  water  hurrying 
to  the  mighty  battles  of  the  sea.  We  mounted 
reeling  knolls,  and  coasted  over  whirling  dips, 
and  rushed  to  boiling  levels,  and  jumped  foamy 
ridges,  and  went  galloping  in  the  rush  and 
tumble  of  long  slopes. 


D'RI  AND   I  279 

"  Let  'er  rip  !  "  I  could  hear  D'ri  shouting, 
once  in  a  while,  as  he  flashed  up  ahead  of  me. 
"  Let  'er  rip  !  Consarn  'er  pictur' !  " 

He  gave  a  great  yell  of  triumph  as  we  slowed 
in  a  long  stretch  of  still,  broad  water.  "  Judas 
Priest !  "  said  he,  as  I  came  alongside,  "  thet 
air  's  rougher  'n  the  bog  trail." 

We  came  to  Paleyville  with  time  only  for  a 
bite  of  luncheon  before  dark.  We  could  see  no 
sign  of  life  on  the  island  or  the  "  Canuck  shore  " 
as  we  turned  our  bows  to  the  south  channel. 
That  evening  the  innkeeper  sat  with  us  under 
a  creeking  sign,  our  chairs  tilted  to  the  tavern- 
side. 

D'ri  was  making  a  moose-horn  of  birch-bark 
as  he  smoked  thoughtfully.  When  he  had  fin 
ished,  he  raised  it  to  his  lips  and  moved  the 
flaring  end  in  a  wide  circle  as  he  blew  a  blast 
that  rang  miles  away  in  the  far  forest. 

"  Ef  we  heppen  t'  git  separated  in  any  way, 
shape,  er  manner  'cept  one,"  said  he,  as  he  slung 
it  over  his  shoulder  with  a  string,  "  ye  '11  knew 
purty  nigh  where  I  be  when  ye  hear  thet  air 
thing." 

"  You  said,   '  in   any  way,  shape,   er  manner 


D'RI  AND   I  280 

'cept  one,'  "  I  quoted.  "What  do  you  mean  by 
that?" 

My  friend  expectorated,  looking  off  into  the 
night  soberly  a  moment. 

"Guess  I  didn't  mean  nuthin',"  sa^id  he,  pres 
ently.  "  When  I  set  out  t'  say  suthin',  don't 
never  know  where  I  'm  goin'  t'  land.  Good 
deal  luk  settin'  sail  without  a  compass.  Thet  's 
one  reason  I  don't  never  say  much  'fore 
women." 

Our  good  host  hurried  the  lagging  hours  with 
many  a  tale  of  the  river  and  that  island  we  were 
soon  to  visit,  once  the  refuge  of  Tadusac,  the 
old  river  pirate,  so  he  told  us,  with  a  cave  now 
haunted  by  some  ghost.  We  started  for  the 
shore  near  ten  o'clock,  the  innkeeper  leading  us 
with  a  lantern,  its  light  flickering  in  a  west  wind. 
The  sky  was  cloudy,  the  night  dark.  Our  host 
lent  us  the  lantern,  kindly  offering  to  build  a 
bonfire  on  the  beach  at  eleven,  to  light  us  home. 

"  Careful,  boys,"  said  the  innkeeper,  as  we  got 
aboard.  "  Aim  straight  f  er  th'  head  o'  th'  island. 
Can't  ye  see  it  —  right  over  yer  heads  there? 
'Member,  they  's  awful  rough  water  below." 

We    pushed    off,    D'ri  leading.     I    could  see 


D'RI  AND   I  281 

nothing  of  the  island,  but  D'ri  had  better  eyes, 
and  kept  calling  me  as  he  went  ahead.  After  a 
few  strokes  of  the  paddle  I  could  see  on  the 
dark  sky  the  darker  mass  of  tree-tops. 

"  Better  light  up,"  I  suggested.  We  were 
now  close  in. 

"  Hush !  "  he  hissed.  Then,  as  I  came  up 
to  him,  he  went  on,  whispering  :  "  'T  ain't  bes'  t' 
mek  no  noise  here.  Don'  know  none  tew  much 
'bout  this  here  business.  Don'  cal'late  we  're 
goin'  t'  hev  any  trouble,  but  if  we  dew  — 
Hark  !  " 

We  had  both  heard  a  stir  in  the  bushes,  and 
stuck  our  paddles  in  the  sand,  listening.  After 
a  little  silence  I  heard  D'ri  get  up  and  step 
stealthily  into  the  water  and  buckle  on  his 
sword.  Then  I  could  hear  him  sinking  the 
canoe  and  shoving  her  anchor  deep  into  the 
sand.  He  did  it  with  no  noise  that,  fifty  feet 
away,  could  have  been  distinguished  from  that 
of  the  ever-murmuring  waters.  In  a  moment 
he  came  and  held  my  canoe,  while  I  also  took 
up  my  trusty  blade,  stepping  out  of  the  canoe 
into  the  shallow  water.  Then  he  shoved  her 
off  a  little,  and  sank  her  beside  the  other.  I 


D'RI  AND   I  282 

knew  not  his  purpose,  and  made  no  question  of 
it,  following  him  as  he  strode  the  shore  with 
measured  paces,  the  lantern  upon  his  arm. 
Then  presently  he  stuck  his  paddle  into  the 
bushes,  and  mine  beside  it.  We  were  near  the 
head  of  the  island,  walking  on  a  reedy  strip  of 
soft  earth  at  the  river  margin.  After  a  few 
paces  we  halted  to  listen,  but  heard  only  the 
voice  of  the  water  and  the  murmur  of  pines. 
Then  we  pushed  through  a  thicket  of  small  fir 
trees  to  where  we  groped  along  in  utter  darkness 
among  the  big  tree  trunks  on  a  muffle-footing. 
After  a  moment  or  so  we  got  a  spray  of  light. 
We  halted,  peering  at  the  glow  that  now  sprin 
kled  out  through  many  a  pinhole  aperture  in  a 
fairy  lattice  of  pine  needles. 

My  heart  was  beating  loudly,  for  there  was 
the  promised  lantern.  Was  I  not  soon  to  see 
the  brighter  light  of  those  dear  faces  ?  It  was 
all  the  kind  of  thing  I  enjoyed  then, — the  atmos 
phere  of  peril  and  romance,  —  wild  youth  that 
I  was.  It  is  a  pity,  God  knows,  I  had  so  little 
consideration  for  old  D'ri;  but  he  loved  me, 
and —  well,  he  himself  had  some  pleasure  in 
excitement. 


D'RI  AND   I  283 

We  halted  for  only  a  moment,  pushing  boldly 
through  a  thicket  of  young  pines  into  the  light. 
A  lantern  hung  on  the  bough  of  a  tall  tree,  and 
beneath  it  was  a  wide  opening  well  carpeted 
with  moss  and  needles.  We  peered  off  into  the 
gloom,  but  saw  nothing. 

D'ri  blew  out  a  thoughtful  breath,  looking  up 
into  the  air  coolly,  as  he  filled  his  pipe. 

"  Consarned  if  ever  I  wanted  t'  have  a  smoke 
s'  bad  'n  all  my  born  days,"  he  remarked. 

Then  he  moved  his  holster,  turned  his  scab 
bard,  and  sat  down  quietly,  puffing  his  pipe  with 
some  look  of  weariness  and  reflection.  We 
were  sitting  there  less  than  five  minutes  when 
we  heard  a  footfall  near  by  ;  then  suddenly  two 
men  strode  up  to  us  in  the  dim  light.  I  recog 
nized  at  once  the  easy  step,  the  long,  lithe  figure, 
of  his  Lordship  in  the  dress  of  a  citizen,  saving 
sword  and  pistols. 

"  Ah,  good  evening,  gentlemen,"  said  he, 
quietly.  "  How  are  you  ?  " 

"  Better  than  —  than  when  we  saw  you  last," 
I  answered. 

D'ri  had  not  moved  ;  he  looked  up  at  me  with 
a  sympathetic  smile. 


D'RI  AND  I  284 

"  I  presume,"  said  his  Lordship,  in  that  famil 
iar,  lazy  tone,  as  he  lighted  a  cigar,  "  there  was 
—  ah  —  good  room  for  improvement,  was  there 
not?" 

"Abundant,"  said  I,  thoughtfully.  "You 
were  not  in  the  best  of  health  yourself  that 
evening." 

"True,"  said  he;  "I  — I  was  in  bad  fettle 
and  worse  luck." 

"  How  are  the  ladies  ?  " 

"  Quite  well,"  said  he,  blowing  a  long  puff. 

"  Ready  to  deliver  them  ?  "   I  inquired. 

"Presently,"  said  he.  "There  are  —  some 
formalities." 

"  Which  are  — ?"   I  added  quickly. 

"  A  trifle  of  expenses  and  a  condition,"  said 
he,  lazily. 

"  How  much,  and  what  ?  "  I  inquired,  as  D'ri 
turned  his  ear. 

"  One  thousand  pounds,"  said  his  Lordship, 
quickly.  "  Not  a  penny  more  than  this  matter 
has  cost  me  and  his  Majesty." 

"What  else?"  said  I. 

"  This  man,"  he  answered  calmly,  with  a  little 
gesture  aimed  at  D'ri. 


D'RI  AND  I  285 

My  friend  rose,  struck  his  palm  with  the 
pipe-bowl,  and  put  up  his  knife. 

"Ef  ye 're  goin'  t'  tek  me,"  said  he,  "better 
begin  right  off,  er  ye  won't  hev  time  'fore 
breakfust." 

Then  he  clapped  the  moose-horn  to  his  lips 
and  blew  a  mighty  blast.  It  made  the  two  men 
jump  and  set  the  near  thicket  reeling.  The 
weird  barytone  went  off  moaning  in  the  far 
wastes  of  timber.  Its  rush  of  echoes  had 
begun.  I  put  my  hand  to  my  sabre,  for  there 
in  the  edge  of  the  gloom  I  saw  a  thing  that 
stirred  me  to  the  marrow.  The  low  firs  were 
moving  toward  us,  root  and  branch,  their  twigs 
falling.  Gods  of  war !  it  made  my  hair  stand 
for  a  jiffy  to  see  the  very  brush  take  feet  and 
legs.  On  sea  or  land  I  never  saw  a  thing  that 
gave  me  so  odd  a  feeling.  We  stood  for  a 
breath  or  two,  then  started  back,  our  sabres 
flashing;  for,  as  the  twigs  fell,  we  saw  they 
had  been  decorating  a  squad  of  the  British. 
They  came  on.  I  struck  at  the  lantern,  but  tpo 
late,  for  his  Lordship  had  swung  it  away.  He 
stumbled,  going  to  his  knees;  the  lantern  hit 
the  earth  and  went  out.  I  had  seen  the  squad 


D'RI  AND   I  286 

break,  running  each  way,  to  surround  us.  D'ri 
grabbed  my  hand  as  the  dark  fell,  and  we  went 
plunging  through  the  little  pines,  hitting  a  man 
heavily,  who  fell  grunting.  We  had  begun  to 
hear  the  rattle  of  boats,  a  shouting,  and  quick 
steps  on  the  shore.  We  crouched  a  moment. 
D'ri  blew  the  moose-horn,  pulling  me  aside  with 
him  quickly  after  the  blast.  Lights  were  now 
flashing  near.  I  could  see  little  hope  for  us, 
and  D'ri,  I  thought,  had  gone  crazy.  He  ran 
at  the  oncomers,  yelling,  "  Hey,  Rube ! "  at 
the  top  of  his  lungs.  I  lay  low  in  the  brush  a 
moment.  They  rushed  by  me,  D'ri  in  the  fore 
with  fending  sabre.  A  tawny  hound  was  run 
ning  in  the  lead,  his  nose  down,  baying  loudly. 
Then  I  saw  the  truth,  and  made  after  them  with 
all  the  speed  of  my  legs.  They  hustled  over 
the  ridge,  their  lights  flashing  under.  For  a 
jiffy  I  could  see  only,  here  and  there,  a  leaping 
glow  in  the  tree-tops.  I  rushed  on,  passing  one 
who  had  tumbled  headlong.  The  lights  below 
me  scattered  quickly  and  stopped.  I  heard  a 
great  yelling,  a  roar  of  muskets,  and  a  clash  of 
swords.  A  hush  fell  on  them  as  I  came  near. 
Then  I  heard  a  voice  that  thrilled  me. 


D'RI  AND    I  287 

"  Your  sword,  sir !  "  it  commanded. 

"  Stop,"  said  I,  sharply,  coming  near. 

There  stood  my  father  in  the  lantern-light, 
his  sword  drawn,  his  gray  hair  stirring  in  the 
breeze.  Before  him  was  my  old  adversary,  his 
Lordship,  sword  in  hand.  Near  by,  the  squad 
of  British,  now  surrounded,  were  giving  up  their 
arms.  They  had  backed  to  the  river's  edge ;  I 
could  hear  it  lapping  their  heels.  His  Lord 
ship  sneered,  looking  at  the  veteran  who  stood 
in  a  gray  frock  of  homespun,  for  all  the  world,  I 
fancy,  like  one  of  those  old  yeomen  who  fought 
with  Cromwell. 

"Your  sword,  sir,"  my  father  repeated. 

"  Pardon  me,"  said  the  young  man,  with  a 
fascinating  coolness  of  manner,  "but  I  shall 
have  to  trouble  you  —  " 

He  hesitated,  feeling  his  blade. 

"  How  ?  "  said  my  father. 

"  To  fight  for  it,"  said  his  Lordship,  quietly. 

"Surrender  —  fool!"  my  father  answered. 
"  You  cannot  escape." 

"  Tut,  tut !  "  said  his  Lordship.  "  I  never 
heard  so  poor  a  compliment.  Come  in  reach, 
and  I  shall  make  you  think  better  of  me." 


D'RI  AND    I  288 

"  Give  up  your  sword." 

"After  my  life,  then  my  sword,"  said  he, 
with  a  quick  thrust. 

Before  I  could  take  a  step,  their  swords  were 
clashing  in  deadly  combat.  I  rushed  up  to 
break  in  upon  them,  but  the  air  was  full  of 
steel,  and  then  my  father  needed  no  help.  He 
was  driving  his  man  with  fiery  vigor.  I  had 
never  seen  him  fight;  all  I  had  seen  of  his 
power  had  been  mere  play. 

It  was  grand  to  see  the  old  man  fighting  as 
if,  for  a  moment,  his  youth  had  come  back  to 
him,  I  knew  it  could  not  go  far.  His  fire 
would  burn  out  quickly ;  then  the  blade  of  the 
young  Britisher,  tireless  and  quick  as  I  knew  it 
to  be,  would  let  his  blood  before  my  very  eyes. 
What  to  do  I  knew  not.  Again  I  came  up  to 
them  ;  but  my  father  warned  me  off  hotly.  He 
was  fighting  with  terrific  energy.  I  swear  to 
you  that  in  half  a  minute  he  had  broken  the 
sword  of  his  Lordship,  who  took  to  the  water, 
swimming  for  his  life.  I  leaped  in,  catching 
him  half  over  the  eddy,  where  we  fought  like 
madmen,  striking  in  the  air  and  bumping  on  the 
bottom.  We  were  both  near  drowned  when 


D'RI  AND   I  289 

D'ri  swam  out  and  gave  me  his  belt-end,  haul 
ing  us  in. 

I  got  to  my  feet  soon.  My  father  came 
up  to  me,  and  wiped  a  cut  on  my  fore 
head. 

"  Damn  you,  my  boy  !  "  said  he.  "  Don't 
ever  interfere  with  me  in  a  matter  of  that  kind. 
You  might  have  been  hurt." 

We  searched  the  island,  high  and  low,  for 
the  ladies,  but  with  no  success.  Then  we 
marched  our  prisoners  to  the  south  channel, 
where  a  bateau  —  the  same  that  brought  us 
help  —  had  been  waiting.  One  of  our  men 
had  been  shot  in  the  shoulder,  another  gored 
in  the  hip  with  a  bayonet,  and  we  left  a  young 
Briton  dead  on  the  shore.  We  took  our  prison 
ers  to  Paleyville,  and  locked  them  overnight  in 
the  blockhouse. 

The  channel  was  lighted  by  a  big  bonfire  on 
the  south  bank,  as  we  came  over.  Its  flames 
went  high,  and  made  a  great,  sloping  volcano  of 
light  in  the  darkness. 

After  the  posting  of  the  guard,  some  gathered 
about  my  father  and  began  to  cheer  him.  It 
nettled  the  veteran.  He  would  take  no  honor 


D'RI  AND   I  290 

for  his  defeat  of  the  clever  man,  claiming  the 
latter  had  no  chance  to  fight. 

"  He  had  no  foot-room  with  the  boy  one  side 
and  D'ri  t'other,"  said  he.  "I  had  only  to 
drive  him  back." 

My  father  and  the  innkeeper  and  D'ri  and  I 
sat  awhile,  smoking,  in  the  warm  glow  of  the 
bonfire. 

"You're  a  long-headed  man,"  said  I,  turning 
to  my  comrade. 

"Kind  o'  thought  they'd  be  trouble,"  said 
D'ri.  "  So  I  tuk  'n  ast  yer  father  t'  come  over 
hossback  with  hef  a  dozen  good  men.  They 
got  three  more  et  the  tavern  here,  an'  lay 
off  'n  thet  air  bateau,  waitin'  fer  the  moose- 
call.  I  cal'lated  I  didn't  want  no  more  slidin' 
over  there  'n  Canady." 

After  a  little  snicker,  he  added :  "  Hed 
all  't  wus  good  fer  me  the  las'  time.  'S  a 
leetle  tew  swift." 

"  Gets  rather  scary  when  you  see  the  bushes 
walk,"  I  suggested. 

"  Seen  whut  wus  up  'fore  ever  they  med  a 
move,"  said  D'ri.  "  Them  air  bushes  did  n't 
look  jest  es  nat'ral  es  they  'd  orter.  Bet  ye 


D'RI  AND  I  291 

they  're  some  o'  them  bushwhackers  o'  Fitz- 
gibbon.  Got  loops  all  over  their  uniforms, 
so  ye  c'u'd  stick  'em  full  o'  boughs.  Jerushy ! 
never  see  nuthin'  s'  joemightful  cur'us  'n  all 
my  born  days  —  never."  He  stopped  a  breath, 
and  then  added :  "  Could  n't  be  nuthin'  cur'user 
'n  thet." 


XXI  292 

E  hired  team  and  wagon  of  the 
innkeeper,  and  a  man  to  paddle 
up-river  and  return  with  the 
horses. 

I  had  a  brief  talk  with  our 
tall  prisoner  while  they  were  making  ready. 

"A  word  of  business,  your  Lordship,"  I 
said  as  he  came  out,  yawning,  with  the 
guard. 

"  Ah,  well,"  said  he,  with  a  shiver,  "  I  hope 
it  is  not  so  cold  as  the  air.'' 

"  It  is  hopeful ;  it  is  cheering,"  was  my 
answer. 

"  And  the  topic  ?  " 
"An  exchange  —  for  the  ladies." 
He  thought  a  moment,  slapping  the  dust  off 
him  with  a  glove. 

"  This  kind  of  thing  is  hard  on  the  trousers," 
he  remarked  carelessly.  "  I  will  consider ; 


D'RI  AND    I  293 

I  think  it  could  be  arranged.  Meanwhile,  I 
give  you  my  word  of  honor,  you  need  have  no 
worry." 

We  were  off  at  daybreak  with  our  prisoners  ; 
there  were  six  of  them  in  all.  We  put  a 
fold  of  linen  over  the  eyes  of  each,  and  roped 
them  all  together,  so  that  they  could  sit  or 
stand,  as  might  please  them,  in  the  wagon- 
box. 

"  It 's  barbarity,"  said  his  Lordship,  as  we 
put  on  the  fold.  "You  Yankees  never  knew 
how  to  treat  a  prisoner." 

"Till  you  learnt  us,"  said  D'ri,  quickly. 
"  Could  n't  never  fergit  thet  lesson.  Ef  I 
hed  my  way  'bout  you,  I  'd  haul  ye  up  t'  th' 
top  o'  thet  air  dead  pine  over  yender,  'n'  let 
ye  slide  down." 

"  Rather  too  steep,  I  should  say,"  said  his 
Lordship,  wearily. 

"  Ye  would  n't  need  no  grease,"  said  D'ri, 
with  a  chuckle. 

We  were  four  days  going  to  the  Harbor. 
My  father  and  his  men  came  with  us,  and 
he  told  us  many  a  tale,  that  journey,  of  his 
adventures  in  the  old  war.  We  kept  our 


D'RI  AND   I  294 

promise,  turning  over  the  prisoners  a  little 
before  sundown  of  the  i6th.  Each  was 
given  a  great  room  and  every  possible  com 
fort.  I  arranged  soon  for  the  release  of  all 
on  the  safe  return  of  the  ladies. 

In  the  evening  of  the  I7th  his  Lordship  sent 
for  me.  He  was  a  bit  nervous,  and  desired  a 
conference  with  the  general  and  me.  De 
Chaumont  had  been  over  to  the  headquarters 
that  day  in  urgent  counsel.  He  was  weary 
of  delay  and  planning  an  appeal  to  the 
French  government.  General  Brown  was 
prepared  to  give  the  matter  all  furtherance 
in  his  power,  and  sent  quickly  for  the  Eng 
lishman.  They  brought  him  over  at  nine 
o'clock.  We  uncovered  his  eyes  and  locked 
the  door,  and  "  gave  him  a  crack  at  the  old 
Madeira,"  as  they  used  to  say,  and  made  him 
as  comfortable  as  might  be  at  the  cheery 
fireside  of  the  general. 

"  I've  been  thinking,"  said  his  Lordship, 
after  a  drink  and  a  word  of  courtesy.  I 
never  saw  a  man  of  better  breeding  or  more 
courage,  I  am  free  to  say.  "  You  may  not 
agree  it  is  possible,  but,  anyhow,  I  have  been 


D'RI  AND   I  295 

trying  to  think.  You  have  been  decent  to 
me.  I  don't  believe  you  are  such  a  bad  lot, 
after  all ;  and  while  I  should  be  sorry  to  have 
you  think  me  tired  of  your  hospitality,  I  desire 
to  hasten  our  plans  a  little.  I  propose  an 
exchange  of  —  of  —  " 

He  hesitated,  whipping  the  ashes  off  his 
cigar. 

"Well  —  first  of  confidence,"  he  went  on. 
"  I  will  take  your  word  if  you  will  take  mine." 

"  In  what  matter  ?  "  the  general  inquired. 

"  That  of  the  ladies  and  their  relief,"  said 
he.  "  A  little  confidence  will  —  will —  " 

"  Grease  the  wheels  of  progress  ? "  the 
general  suggested,  smiling. 

"  Quite  so,"  he  answered  lazily.  "  To  begin 
with,  they  are  not  thirty  miles  away,  if  I  am 
correct  in  my  judgment  of  this  locality." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence. 

"My  dear  sir,"  he  went  on  presently,  "this 
ground  is  quite  familiar  to  me.  I  slept  in 
this  very  chamber  long  ago.  But  that  is  rbot 
here  nor  there.  Day  after  to-morrow,  a  little 
before  midnight,  the  ladies  will  be  riding 
on  the  shore  pike.  You  could  meet  them 


D'RI  AND   I  296 

and  bring  them  out  to  a  schooner,  I  suppose 
-if—" 

He  stopped  again,  puffing  thoughtfully. 

"  If  we  could  agree,"  he  went  on.  "  Now 
this  would  be  my  view  of  it :  You  let  me  send 
a  messenger  for  the  ladies.  You  would  have 
to  take  them  by  force  somehow ;  but,  you 
know,  I  could  make  it  easy  —  arrange  the 
time  and  place,  no  house  near,  no  soldiers, 
no  resistance  but  that  of  the  driver,  who 
should  not  share  our  confidence  —  no  danger. 
You  take  them  to  the  boats  and  bring  them 
over  ;  but,  first  — 

He  paused  again,  looking  at  the  smoke- 
rings  above  his  head  in  a  dreamy  manner. 

"  '  First/  "  my  chief  repeated. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  leaning  toward  him  with 
a  little  gesture,  "  to  me  the  word  of  a  gen 
tleman  is  sacred.  I  know  you  are  both  gentle 
men.  I  ask  for  your  word  of  honor." 

"  To  what  effect  ?  "  the  general  queried. 

"That  you  will  put  us  safely  on  British 
soil  within  a  day  after  the  ladies  have  arrived," 
said  he. 

"  It    is    irregular     and    a    matter    of    some 


D'RI  AND   I  297 

difficulty,"  said  the  general.  "Whom  would 
you  send  with  such  a  message  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  should  say  some  Frenchwoman 
could  do  it.  There  must  be  one  here  who  is 
clever  enough." 

"  I  know  the  very  one,"  said  I,  with  enthusi 
asm.  "  She  is  as  smart  and  cunning  as  they 
make  them." 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  general;  "that  is  but 
one  step.  Who  is  to  capture  them  and  take  the 
risk  of  their  own  heads  ?  " 

"D'ri  and  I  could  do  it  alone,"  was  my  con 
fident  answer. 

"Ah,  well,"  said  his  Lordship,  as  he  rose 
languidly  and  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  "  I 
shall  sencf  them  where  the  coast  is  clear  —  my 
word  for  that.  Hang  me  if  I  fail  to  protect 
them." 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  question  your  honor,"  said 
the  general,  "  or  violate  in  any  way  this  atmos 
phere  of  fine  courtesy ;  but,  sir,  I  do  not  know 
you." 

"  Permit  me  to  introduce  myself,"  said  the 
Englishman,  as  he  ripped  his  coat-lining  and 
drew  out  a  folded  sheet  of  purple  parchment. 


D'RI  AND    I  298 

"  I  am  Lord  Ronley,  fifth  Earl  of  Pickford,  and 
cousin  of  his  Most  Excellent  Majesty  the  King 
of  England ;  there  is  the  proof." 

He  tossed  the  parchment  to  the  table  care 
lessly,  resuming  his  chair. 

"  Forgive  me,"  said  he,  as  the  general  took 
it.  "  I  have  little  taste  for  such  theatricals. 
Necessity  is  my  only  excuse." 

"  It  is  enough,"  said  the  other.  "  I  am  glad 
to  know  you.  I  hope  sometime  we  shall  stop 
fighting  each  other  —  we  of  the  same  race  and 
blood.  It  is  unnatural." 

"  Give  me  your  hand,"  said  the  Englishman, 
with  heartier  feeling  than  I  had  seen  him  show, 
as  he  advanced.  "  Amen  !  I  say  to  you." 

"  Will  you  write  your  message  ?  Here  are 
ink  and  paper,"  said  the  general. 

His  Lordship  sat  down  at  the  table  and 
hurriedly  wrote  these  letters  :  — 

"PRESCOTT,  ONTARIO,  November  17,  1813. 
"To   SIR    CHARLES    GRAVLEIGH,    The    Weirs, 
above     Landsmere,     Wrentham,     Frontenac 
County,  Canada. 

"  MY  DEAR  GRAVLEIGH  :  Will  you  see  that 
the  baroness  and  her  two  wards,  the  Misses  de 


D'RI  AND    I  299 

Lambert,  are  conveyed  by  my  coach,  on  the 
evening  of  the  i8th  hist,  to  that  certain  point 
on  the  shore  pike  between  Amsbury  and  Lake 
side  known  as  Burnt  Ridge,  there  to  wait  back 
in  the  timber  for  my  messenger  ?  Tell  them 
they  are  to  be  returned  to  their  home,  and  give 
them  my  very  best  wishes.  Lamson  will  drive, 
and  let  the  bearer  ride  with  the  others. 

"  Very  truly  yours, 

"  RONLEY." 

To  whom  it  may  concern. 

"  Mme.  St.  Jovite,  the  bearer,  is  on  her  way 
to  my  house  at  Wrentham,  Frontenac  County, 
second  concession,  with  a  despatch  of  urgent 
character.  I  shall  be  greatly  favored  by  all  who 
give  her  furtherance  in  this  journey. 
"  Respectfully,  etc., 

"  Ronley, 
"  Colonel  of  King's  Guard." 

For  fear  of  a  cipher,  the  general  gave  tanta 
mount  terms  for  each  letter,  and  his  Lordship 
rewrote  them. 

"  I  thought  the  name  St.  Jovite  would  be*  as 
good  as  any,"  he  remarked. 

The  rendezvous  was  carefully  mapped.  The 
guard  came,  and  his  Lordship  rose  languidly. 


D'RI  AND    I  300 

"  One  thing  more,"  said  he.  "  Let  the  men 
go  over  without  arms  —  if  —  if  you  will  be  so 
good." 

"  I  shall  consider  that,"  said  the  general. 

"  And  when  shall  the  messenger  start  ?  " 

"Within  the  hour,  if  possible,"  my  chief 
answered. 

As  they  went  away,  the  general  sat  down 
with  me  for  a  moment,  to  discuss  the  matter. 


XXII  301 

EREIN  is  the  story  of  the  adven 
tures  of  his  Lordship's  courier, 
known  as  Mme.  St.  Jovite,  on 
and  after  the  night  of  Novem 
ber  17,  1813,  in  Upper  Canada. 
This  account  may  be  accepted  as  quite  trust 
worthy,  its  writer  having  been  known  to  me  these 
many  years,  in  the  which  neither  I  nor  any  of 
my  friends  have  had  occasion  to  doubt  her 
veracity.  The  writer  gave  more  details  than 
are  desirable,  but  the  document  is  nothing  more 
than  a  letter  to  an  intimate  friend.  I  remember 
well  she  had  an  eye  for  color  and  a  taste  for 
description  not  easy  to  repress. 

When  I  decided  to  go  it  was  near  midnight. 
The  mission  was  not  all  to  my  taste,  but  the 
reward  was  handsome  and  the  letter  of  Lord 
Ronley  reassuring.  I  knew  I  could  do  it,  and 


D'RI  AND    I  302 

dressed  as  soon  as  possible  and  walked  to  the 
Lone  Oak,  a  sergeant  escorting.  There,  as  I 
expected,  the  big  soldier  known  as  D'ri  was 
waiting,  his  canoe  in  a  wagon  that  stood  near. 
We  all  mounted  the  seat,  driving  pell-mell  on  a 
rough  road  to  Tibbals  Point,  on  the  southwest 
corner  of  Wolf  Island.  A  hard  journey  it  was, 
and  near  two  o'clock,  I  should  say,  before  we 
put  our  canoe  in  the  water.  Then  the  man  D'ri 
helped  me  to  an  easy  seat  in  the  bow  and  shoved 
off.  A  full  moon,  yellow  as  gold,  hung  low  in 
the  northwest.  The  water  was  calm,  and  we 
cut  across  "the  moon  way,"  that  funnelled  off 
to  the  shores  of  Canada. 

"  It  is  one  ver'  gran'  night,"  I  said  in  my 
dialect  of  the  rude  Canuck ;  for  I  did  not  wish 
him,  or  any  one,  to  know  me.  War  is  war,  but, 
surely,  such  adventures  are  not  the  thing  for  a 
woman. 

"Yis,  mahm,"  he  answered,  pushing  hard 
with  the  paddle.  "  Yer  a  friend  o'  the  cap'n, 
ain't  ye  —  Ray  Bell  ?  " 

"Ze  captain?  Ah,  oui,  m'sieu',"  I  said. 
"  One  ver'  brave  man,  ain't  it  ?  " 

"Yis,  mahm,"  said  he,  soberly  and  with  em- 


D'RI  AND    I  303 

phasis.  "  He  's  more  'n  a  dozen  brave  men, 
thet 's  whut  he  is.  He's  a  joemightyful  cuss. 
Ain't  nuthin'  he  can't  dew  —  spryer  'n  a  painter, 
stouter  'n  a  moose,  an'  treemenjous  with  a 
sword." 

The  moon  sank  low,  peering  through  distant 
tree-columns,  and  went  out  of  sight.  Long 
stubs  of  dead  pine  loomed  in  the  dim,  golden 
afterglow,  their  stark  limbs  arching  high  in  the 
heavens  —  like  mullions  in  a  great  Gothic 
window. 

"  When  we  git  nigh  shore  over  yender,"  said 
my  companion,  "don't  believe  we  better  hev  a 
grea'  deal  t'  say.  I  ain't  a-goin'  t'  be  tuk  —  by 
a  jugful  —  not  ef  I  can  help  it.  Got  me  'n  a 
tight  place  one  night  here  'n  Canady." 

"Ah,  m'sieu',  in  Canada!  How  did  you  get 
out  of  it?"  I  queried. 

"Slipped  out,"  said  he,  shaking  the  canoe 
with  suppressed  laughter.  "Jes'  luk  a  streak 
o'  greased  lightnin',"  he  added  presently. 

"  The  captain  he  seems  ver'  anxious  for  me 
to  mak'  great  hurry,"  I  remarked. 

"  No  wonder  ;  it 's  his  lady-love  he  's  efter  — 
faster  'n  a  weasel  t'  see  'er,"  said  he,  snickering. 


D'RI  AND    I 


3°4 


"  Good-looking  ?  "  I  queried. 

"  Han'some  es  a  pictur',"  said  he,  soberly. 

In  a  moment  he  dragged  his  paddle,  listening. 

"  Thet  air 's  th'  shore  over  yender,"  he  whis 
pered.  "  Don't  say  a  word  now.  I  '11  put  ye 
right  on  the  p'int  o'  rocks.  Creep  'long  careful 
till  ye  git  t'  th'  road,  then  turn  t'  th'  left,  the 
cap'n  tol'  me." 

When  I  stepped  ashore  my  dress  caught  the 
gunwale  and  upset  our  canoe.  The  good  man 
rolled  noisily  into  the  water,  and  rose  dripping. 
I  tried  to  help  him. 

"  Don't  bother  me  —  none;'  he  whispered 
testily,  as  if  out  of  patience,  while  he  righted 
the  canoe. 

When  at  last  he  was  seated  again,  as  I  leaned 
to  shove  him  off,  he  whispered  in  a  compensat 
ing,  kindly  manner  :  "  When  ye  're  goin'  ashore, 
an'  they  's  somebody  'n  the  canoe,  don't  never 
try  t'  tek  it  with  ye  'less  ye  tell  'im  yer  goin' 
tew." 

There  was  a  deep  silence  over  wood  and 
water,  but  he  went  away  so  stealthily  I  could 
not  hear  the  stir  of  his  paddle.  I  stood  watch 
ing  as  he  dimmed  off  in  the  darkness,  going 


D'RI  AND   I  305 

quickly  out  of  sight.  Then  I  crept  over  the 
rocks  and  through  a  thicket,  shivering,  for  the 
night  had  grown  chilly.  I  snagged  my  dress 
on  a  brier  every  step,  and  had  to  move  by 
inches.  After  mincing  along  half  an  hour  or 
so,  I  came  where  I  could  feel  a  bit  of  clear 
earth,  and  stood  there,  dancing  on  my  tiptoes, 
in  the  dark,  to  quicken  my  blood  a  little.  Pres 
ently  the  damp  light  of  dawn  came  leaking 
through  the  tree-tops.  I  heard  a  rattling  stir  in 
the  bare  limbs  above  me.  Was  it  some  monster 
of  the  woods  ?  Although  I  have  more  courage 
than  most  women,  it  startled  me,  and  I  stood 
still.  The  light  came  clearer ;  there  was  a  rush 
toward  me  that  shook  the  boughs.  I  peered 
upward.  It  was  only  a  squirrel,  now  scratching 
his  ear,  as  he  looked  down  at  me.  He  braced 
himself,  and  seemed  to  curse  me  loudly  for  a 
spy,  trembling  with  rage  and  rushing  up  and 
down  the  branch  above  me.  Then  all  the 
curious,  inhospitable  folk  of  the  timber-land 
came  out  upon  their  towers  to  denounce.  * 

I  made  my  way  over  the  rustling,  brittle  leaves, 
and  soon  found  a  trail  that  led  up  over  high 
land.  I  followed  it  for  a  matter  of  some  min- 


D'RI  AND   I  306 

utes,  and  came  to  the  road,  taking  my  left-hand 
way,  as  they  told  me.  There  was  no  traveller  in 
sight.  I  walked  as  fast  as  I  could,  passing  a 
village  at  sunrise,  where  I  asked  my  way  in 
French  at  a  smithy.  Beyond  there  was  a  nar 
row  clearing,  stumpy  and  rank  with  briers,  on 
the  up-side  of  the  way.  Presently,  looking  over 
a  level  stretch,  I  could  see  trees  arching  the 
road  again,  from  under  which,  as  I  was  looking, 
a  squad  of  cavalry  came  out  in  the  open.  It 
startled  me.  I  began  to  think  I  was  trapped. 
I  thought  of  dodging  into  the  brush.  But,  no ; 
they  had  seen  me,  and  I  would  be  a  fool  now  to 
turn  fugitive.  I  looked  about  me.  Cows  were 
feeding  near.  I  picked  up  a  stick  and  went 
deliberately  into  the  bushes,  driving  one  of 
them  to  the  pike  and  heading  her  toward  them. 
They  went  by  at  a  gallop,  never  pulling  up 
while  in  sight  of  me.  Then  I  passed  the  cow 
and  went  on,  stopping  an  hour  later  at  a  lonely 
log  house,  where  I  found  French  people,  and  a 
welcome  that  included  moose  meat,  a  cup  of 
coffee,  and  fried  potatoes.  Leaving,  I  rode 
some  miles  with  a  travelling  tinker,  a  voluble, 
well-meaning  youth  who  took  a  liking  for  me, 


D'RI  AND   I  307 

and  went  far  out  of  his  way  to  help  me  on. 
He  blushed  proudly  when,  stopping  to  mend  a 
pot  for  the  cook  at  a  camp  of  militia,  they 
inquired  if  I  was  his  wife. 

"  No ;  but  she  may  be  yet,"  said  he  ;  "  who 
knows  ? " 

I  knew  it  was  no  good  place  for  me,  and  felt 
'some  relief  when  the  young  man  did  me  this 
honor.  From  that  moment  they  set  me  down 
for  a  sweetheart. 

"  She  's  too  big  for  you,  my  boy,"  said  the 
general,  laughing. 

"  The  more  the  better,"  said  he  ;  "  can't  have 
too  much  of  a  good  wife." 

I  said  little  to  him  as  we  rode  along.  He 
asked  for  my  address,  when  I  left  him,  and 
gave  me  the  comforting  assurance  that  he 
would  see  me  again.  I  made  no  answer,  leav 
ing  him  at  a  turn  where,  north  of  us,  I  could 
see  the  white  houses  of  Wrentham.  Kingston 
was  hard  by,  its  fort  crowning  a  hill-top  by  the 
river. 

It  was  past  three  by  a  tower  clock  at  the  gate 
of  the  Weirs  when  I  got  there.  A  driveway 
through  tall  oaks  led  to  the  mansion  of  dark 


D'RI  AND   I  308 

stone.  Many  acres  of  park  and  field  and  gar 
den  were  shut  in  with  high  walls.  I  rang  a 
bell  at  the  small  gate,  and  some  fellow  in  livery 
took  my  message. 

"  Wait  'ere,  my  lass,"  said  he,  with  an  Eng 
lish  accent.  "  I  '11  go  at  once  to  the  secretary." 

I  sat  in  a  rustic  chair  by  the  gate-side,  waiting 
for  that  functionary. 

"  Ah,  come  in,  come  in,"  said  he,  coolly,  as 
he  opened  the  gate  a  little. 
*  He  said  nothing  more,  and  I  followed  him  — 
an  oldish  man  with  gray  eyes  and  hair  and  side- 
whiskers,  and  neatly  dressed,  his  head  covered 
to  the  ears  with  a  high  hat,  tilted  backward. 
We  took  a  stone  path,  and  soon  entered  a  rear 
door. 

"  She  may  sit  in  the  servants'  hall,"  said  he 
to  one  of  the  maids. 

They  took  my  shawl,  as  he  went  away,  and 
showed  me  to  a  room  where,  evidently,  the  ser 
vants  did  their  eating.  They  were  inquisitive, 
those  kitchen  maids,  and  now  and  then  I  was 
rather  put  to  it  for  a  wise  reply.  I  said  as 
little  as  might  be,  using  the  dialect,  long  familiar 
to  me,  of  the  French  Canadian.  My  bonnet 


D'RI   AND   I  309 

amused  them.  It  was  none  too  new  or  fashion 
able,  and  I  did  not  remove  it. 

"  Afraid  we  '11  steal  it,"  I  heard  one  of  them 
whisper  in  the  next  room.  Then  there  was 
a  loud  laugh. 

They  gave  me  a  French  paper.  I  read 
every  line  of  it,  and  sat  looking  out  of  a 
window  at  the  tall  trees,  at  servants  who  passed 
to  and  fro,  at  his  Lordship's  horses,  led  up  and 
down  for  exercise  in  the  stable-yard,  at  the  twi 
light  glooming  the  last  pictures  of  a  long  day 
until  they  were  all  smudged  with  darkness. 
Then  candle-light,  a  trying  supper  hour  with 
maids  and  cooks  and  grooms  and  footmen 
at  the  big  table,  English,  every  one  of  them, 
and  set  up  with  haughty  curiosity.  I  would 
not  go  to  the  table,  and  had  a  cup  of  tea  and 
a  biscuit  there  in  my  corner.  A  big  butler 
walked  in  hurriedly  awhile  after  seven.  He 
looked  down  at  me  as  if  I  were  the  dirt  of  the 
gutter. 

"They  're  waitin',"  said  he,  curtly.  "An' 
Sir  Chawles  would  like  to  know  if  ye  would 
care  for  a  humberreller  ?  " 

"  Ah,  m'sieu' !    he  rains  ?  "  I  inquired. 


D'RI  AND   I  310 

"  No,  mum." 

"  Ah  !   he  is  going  to  rain,  maybe  ?  " 

He  made  no  answer,  but  turned  quickly 
and  went  to  a  near  closet,  from  which  he 
brought  a  faded  umbrella. 

"There,"  said  he,  as  he  led  me  to  the  front 
door,  "  see  that  you  send  it  back." 

On  the  porch  were  the  secretary  and  the 
ladies  —  three  of  them. 

"  Ciel !  what  is  it  ?  "  one  of  them  whispered 
as  I  came  out. 

The  post-lights  were  shining  in  their  faces, 
and  lovelier  I  never  saw  than  those  of  the 
demoiselles.  They  stepped  lightly  to  the 
coach,  and  the  secretary  asked  if  I  would  go 
in  with  them. 

"  No,  m'sieu',"  was  my  answer ;  "  I  sit  by 
ze  drivaire." 

"Come  in  here,  you  silly  goose,"  said  one 
of  the  ladies  in  French,  recognizing  my  nation 
ality. 

"Grand  merci!"  I  said,  taking  my  seat  by 
the  driver;  and  then  we  were  off,  with  as 
lively  a  team  as  ever  carried  me,  our  lights 
flashing  on  the  tree  trunks.  We  had  been 


D'RI  AND   I  311 

riding  more  than  two  hours  when  we  stopped 
for  water  at  a  spring-tub  under  a  hill.  They 
gave  me  a  cup,  and,  for  the  ladies,  I  brought 
each  a  bumper  of  the  cool,  trickling  flood. 

"  Ici,  my  tall  woman,"  said  one  of  them, 
presently,  "my  boot  is  untied." 

Her  dainty  foot  came  out  of  the  coach  door 
under  ruffles  of  silk.  I  hesitated,  for  I  was 
not  accustomed  to  that  sort  of  service. 

"Lambine!"  she  exclaimed.  "Make  haste, 
will  you  ?  "  her  foot  moving  impatiently. 

My  fingers  had  got  numb  in  the  cold  air, 
and  I  must  have  been  very  awkward,  for 
presently  she  boxed  my  ears  and  drew  her  foot 
away. 

"  Dieu  !  "  said  she.     "  Tell  him  to  drive  on." 

I  got  to  my  seat  quickly,  confident  that 
nature  had  not  intended  me  for  a  lady's-maid. 
Awhile  later  we  heard  the  call  of  a  picket 
far  afield,  but  saw  no  camp.  A  horseman  — 
I  thought  him  a  cavalry  officer  —  passed  us, 
flashing  in  our  faces  the  light  of  a  dark  lantern, 
but  said  nothing.  It  must  have  been  near 
midnight  when,  as  we  were  going  slowly 
through  deep  sand,  I  heard  the  clang  of  a 


D'RI  AND   I 


312 


cow-bell  in  the  near  darkness.  Another 
sounded  quickly  a  bit  farther  on.  The  driver 
gave  no  heed  to  it,  although  I  recognized  the 
signal,  and  knew  something  would  happen 
shortly.  We  had  come  into  the  double  dark 
of  the  timber  when,  suddenly,  our  horses 
reared,  snorting,  and  stopped.  The  driver  felt 
for  his  big  pistol,  but  not  in  the  right  place : 
for  two  hours  or  more  it  had  been  stowed 
away  in  the  deep  pocket  of  my  gown.  Not 
a  word  was  spoken.  By  the  dim  light  of  the 
lanterns  we  could  see  men  all  about  us  with 
pikes  looming  in  the  dark.  For  a  breath  or 
two  there  was  perfect  silence ;  then  the 
driver  rose  quickly  and  shouted :  "  Who  are 
you  ? " 

"  Frien's  o'  these  'ere  women,"  said  one  I 
recognized  as  the  Corporal  D'ri. 

He  spoke  in  a  low  tone  as  he  opened  the 
door. 

"  Grace  au  ciel !  "  I  heard  one  of  the  young 
ladies  saying.  "  It  is  D'ri  —  dear  old  fellow  !  " 

Then  they  all  hurried  out  of  the  coach  and 
kissed  him. 

"The  captain  —  is   he  not   here?"  said  one 


D'RI  AND   I  313 

of  them  in  French.  But  D'ri  did  not  under 
stand  them,  and  made  no  answer. 

"  Out  wi'  the  lights,  an'  be  still,"  said  D'ri, 
quickly,  and  the  lights  were  out  as  soon  as  the 
words.  "Jones,  you  tie  up  a  front  leg  o'  one 
o'  them  bosses.  Git  back  in  the  brush,  ladies. 
Five  on  'em,  boys.  Now  up  with  the  pike 
wall !  " 

From  far  back  in  the  road  had  come  again 
the  clang  of  the  cow-bell.  I  remember  hearing 
five  strokes  and  then  a  loud  rattle.  In  a  twin 
kling  I  was  off  the  seat  and  beside  the  ladies. 

"Take  hold  of  my  dress,"  I  whispered 
quickly,  "  and  follow  me." 

I  led  them  off  in  the  brush,  and  stopped. 
We  could  hear  the  move  and  rattle  of  cav 
alry  in  the  near  road.  Then  presently  the 
swish  of  steel,  the  leap  and  tumble  of  horses, 
the  shouting  of  men.  My  companions  were 
of  the  right  stuff;  they  stood  shivering,  but 
held  their  peace.  Out  by  the  road  lights 
were  flashing,  and  now  we  heard  pistols  and 
the  sound  of  a  mighty  scuffle.  I  could  stay 
there  in  the  dark  no  longer. 

"  Wait  here,  and  be  silent,"  I  said,  and  ran 


D'RI  AND   I  314 

"  like   a   madwoman,"   as  they   told    me   long 
after,  for  the  flickering  lights. 

There  a  squad  of  cavalry  was  shut  in  by 
the  pikes.  Two  troopers  had  broken  through 
the  near  line.  One  had  fallen,  badly  hurt ;  the 
other  was  sabre  to  sabre  with  the  man  D'ri. 
They  were  close  up  and  striving  fiercely,  as 
if  with  broadswords.  I  caught  up  the  weapon 
of  the  injured  man,  for  I  saw  the  Yankee 
would  get  the  worst  of  it.  The  Britisher 
had  great  power  and  a  sabre  quick  as  a  cat's 
paw.  I  could  see  the  corporal  was  stronger, 
but  not  so  quick  and  skilful.  As  I  stood  by, 
quivering  with  excitement,  I  saw  him  get  a 
slash  in  the  shoulder.  He  stumbled,  falling 
heavily.  Then  quickly,  forgetting  my  sex, 
but  not  wholly,  I  hope,  the  conduct  that  be 
comes  a  woman,  I  caught  the  point  of  the 
sabre,  now  poised  to  run  him  through,  with 
the  one  I  carried.  He  backed  away,  hesi 
tating,  for  he  had  seen  my  hat  and  gown. 
But  I  made  after  him  with  all  the  fury  I 
felt,  and  soon  had  him  in  action.  He  was 
tired,  I  have  no  doubt;  anyway,  I  whirled  his 
sabre  and  broke  his  hold,  whipping  it  to  the 


D'RI  AND   I 


3*5 


ground.  That  was  the  last  we  saw  of  him, 
for  he  made  off  in  the  dark  faster  than  I 
could  follow.  The  trouble  was  all  over,  save 
the  wound  of  the  corporal,  which  was  not  as 
bad  as  I  thought.  He  was  up,  and  one  of 
them,  a  surgeon,  was  putting  stitches  in  his 
upper  arm.  Others  were  tying  four  men 
together  with  rope.  Their  weapons  were 
lying  in  a  little  heap  near  by.  One  of  the 
British  was  saying  that  Sir  Charles  Gravleigh 
had  sent  for  them  to  ride  after  the  coach. 

"Jerushy  Jane  Pepper!"  said  the  man  D'ri. 
"  Never  see  no  sech  wil'cat  uv  a  woman  es  thet 
air." 

I  looked  down  at  my  gown ;  I  felt  of  my  hat, 
now  hanging  over  one  ear.  Sure  enough,  I 
was  a  woman. 

"  Who  be  ye,  I  'd  like  t'  know  ?  "  said  the  man 
D'ri. 

"  Ramon  Bell  —  a  Yankee  soldier  of  the  rank 
of  captain,"  I  said,  stripping  off  my  gown. 
"  But,  I  beg  of  you,  don't  tell  the  ladies  I  was 
ever  a  woman." 

"  Judas  Priest ! "  said  D'ri,  as  he  flung  his 
well  arm  around  me. 


XXIII  3l6 

FELT  foolish  for  a  moment 
I  had  careful  plans  for  Mme. 
St.  Jovite.  She  would  have 
vanished  utterly  on  our  return ; 
so,  I  fancy,  none  would  have 
been  the  wiser.  But  in  that  brief  sally  I  had 
killed  the  madame;  she  could  serve  me  no 
more.  I  have  been  careful  in  my  account  of 
this  matter  to  tell  all  just  as  it  happened, 
to  put  upon  it  neither  more  nor  less  of  ro 
mantic  color  than  we  saw.  Had  I  the  skill 
and  license  of  a  novelist,  I  could  have  made 
much  of  my  little  mystery ;  but  there  are  many 
now  living  who  remember  all  these  things,  and 
then,  I  am  a  soldier,  and  too  old  for  a  new  busi 
ness.  So  I  make  as  much  of  them  as  there  was 
and  no  more. 

In  private  theatricals,  an  evening  at  the  Har 
bor,  I  had  won  applause  with  the  rig,  wig,  and 
dialect  of  my  trip  to  Wrentham  Square.  So, 


D'RI  AND    I  317 

when  I  proposed  a  plan  to  my  friend  the  gen 
eral,  urging  the  peril  of  a  raw  hand  with  a  trust 
of  so  much  importance,  he  had  no  doubt  of. my 
ability. 

I  borrowed  a  long  coat,  having  put  off  my 
dress,  and,  when  all  was  ready,  went  with  a 
lantern  to  get  the  ladies.  Louise  recognized 
me  first. 

"  Grace  au  ciel !  le  capitaine  !  "  said  she,  run 
ning  to  meet  me. 

I  dropped  my  lantern  as  we  came  face  to 
face,  and  have  ever  been  glad  of  that  little 
accident,  for  there  in  the  dark  my  arms  went 
around  her,  and  our  lips  met  for  a  silent  kiss 
full  of  history  and  of  holy  confidence.  Then 
she  put  her  hand  upon  my  face  with  a  gentle 
caressing  touch,  and  turned  her  own  away. 

"  I  am  very,  very  glad  to  see  you,"  I  said. 

"  Dieu ! "  said  her  sister,  coming  near,  "we 
should  be  glad  to  see  you,  if  it  were  possible.'* 

I  lighted  the  lantern  hurriedly. 

"  Ciel !  the  light  becomes  him,"  said  Louison, 
her  grand  eyes  aglow. 

But  before  there  was  time  to  answer  I  had 
kissed  her  also. 


D'RI  AND   I  318 

"  He  is  a  bold  thing,"  she  added,  turning 
soberly  to  the  baroness. 

"  Both  a  bold  and  happy  thing,"  I  answered. 
"  Forgive  me.  I  should  not  be  so  bold  if  I  were 
not  —  well  —  insanely  happy." 

"  He  is  only  a  boy,"  said  the  baroness,  laugh 
ing  as  she  kissed  me. 

"  Poor  little  ing^nu !  "  said  Louison,  patting 
my  arm. 

Louise,  tall  and  lovely  and  sedate  as  ever, 
stood  near  me,  primping  her  bonnet. 

"  Little  inge"nu !  "  she  repeated,  with  a  faint 
laugh  of  irony  as  she  placed  the  dainty  thing 
on  her  head. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  him  ? "  said 
Louison,  turning  to  help  her. 

"  Dieu !  that  he  is  very  big  and  dreadful," 
said  the  other,  soberly.  "  I  should  think  we 
had  better  be  going." 

These  things  move  slowly  on  paper,  but  the 
greeting  was  to  me  painfully  short,  there  being 
of  it  not  more  than  a  minuteful,  I  should  say. 
On  our  way  to  the  lights  they  plied  me  with 
whispered  queries,  and  were  in  fear  of  more 
fighting.  The  prisoners  were  now  in  the  coach, 


D'RI  AND   I  319 

and  our  men  —  there  were  twelve  —  stood  on 
every  side  of  it,  their  pikes  in  hand.  The  boats 
were  near,  and  we  hurried  to  the  river  by  a  tote- 
way.  Our  schooner  lay  some  twenty  rods  off 
a  point.  A  bateau  and  six  canoes  were  waiting 
on  the  beach,  and  when  we  had  come  to  the 
schooner  I  unbound  the  prisoners. 

"You  can  get  ashore  with  this  bateau,"  I 
said.  "  You  will  find  the  horses  tied  to  a  tree." 

"  Wha'  does  thet  mean  ?  "  said  D'ri. 

"That  we  have  no  right  to  hold  them,"  was 
my  answer.  "  Ronley  was  in  no  way  respon 
sible  for  their  coming." 

Leaning  over  the  side  with  a  lantern,  while 
one  of  our  men  held  the  bateau,  I  motioned  to 
the  coachman. 

"  Give  that  '  humberreller '  to  the  butler,  with 
my  compliments,"  I  whispered. 

Our  anchors  up,  our  sails  took  the  wind  in 
a  jiffy. 

"  'Member  how  we  used  ye,"  D'ri  called  to 
the  receding  Britishers,  "  an'  ef  ye  ever  meet 
a  Yankee  try  t'  be  p'lite  tew  'im." 

Dawn  had  come  before  we  got  off  at  the 
Harbor  dock.  I  took  the  ladies  to  an  inn  for 


D'RI  AND   I 


320 


breakfast,  wrote  a  report,  and  went  for  my  horse 
and  uniform.  General  Brown  was  buttoning  his 
suspenders  when  they  admitted  me  to  his  room. 

"What  luck,  my  boy  ?  "  said  he. 

"All  have  returned-  safely,  including  the 
ladies,"  I  replied  quickly,  "and  I  have  the 
honor  to  submit  a  report." 

He  took  a  chair,  and  read  the  report  care 
fully,  and  looked  up  at  me,  laughing. 

"  What  a  lucky  and  remarkable  young  man  !  " 
said  he.  "  I  declare,  you  should  have  lived  in 
the  Middle  Ages  " 

"  Ah,  then  I  should  not  have  enjoyed  your 
compliments  or  your  friendship,"  was  my 
answer. 

He  laughed  again  heartily. 

"Nor  the  demoiselles','' said  he.  "I  con 
gratulate  you.  They  are  the  loveliest  of  their 
sex ;  but  I'm  sorry  they're  not  Americans." 

"  Time  enough.  I  have  decided  that  one  of 
them  shall  become  an  American,"  said  I,  with 
all  the  confidence  of  youth. 

"  It  is  quite  an  undertaking,"  said  he.  "You 
may  find  new  difficulties.  Their  father  is  at 
the  chateau." 


D'RI  AND  I  321 

"  M'sieur  de  Lambert  ? "  I  exclaimed. 

"M'sieur  de  Lambert.  Came  yesterday,  via 
Montreal,  with  a  fine  young  nobleman  —  the 
Count  Esmon  de  Brovel,"  said  he.  "  You  must 
look  out  for  him ;  he  has  the  beauty  of  Apollo 
and  the  sword  of  a  cavalier." 

"  And  I  no  fear  of  him,"  I  answered  soberly, 
with  a  quick  sense  of  alarm. 

"  They  rode  over  in  the  afternoon  with  Chau- 
mont,"  he  went  on.  "It  seems  the  young 
ladies'  father,  getting  no  news  of  them,  had 
become  worried.  Well,  you  may  go  and  have 
three  days  for  your  fun ;  I  shall  need  you 
presently." 

Breakfast  over,  I  got  a  team  for  the  ladies, 
and,  mounting  my  own  horse,  rode  before  them. 
I  began  to  consider  a  very  odd  thing  in  this  love 
experience.  While  they  were  in  captivity  I  had 
begun  to  think  less  of  Louison  and  more  of 
Louise.  In  truth,  one  face  had  faded  a  little  in 
my  memory ;  the  other,  somehow,  had  grown 
clearer  and  sweeter,  as  if  by  a  light  borrowed 
from  the  soul  behind  it.  Now  that  I  saw  Lou 
ison,  her  splendid  face  and  figure  appealed  to 
me  with  all  the  power  of  old.  She  was  quick, 


D'RI  AND   I  322 

vivacious,  subtle,  aggressive,  cunning,  aware  and 
proud  of  her  charms,  and  ever  making  the  most 
of  them.  She,  ah,  yes,  she  could  play  with  a 
man  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  victory,  and  be 
very  heartless  if  —  if  she  were  not  in  love  with 
him.  This  type  of  woman  had  no  need  of  argu 
ment  to  make  me  feel  her  charms.  With  her 
the  old  doubt  had  returned  to  me;  for  how 
long  ?  I  wondered.  Her  sister  was  quite  her 
antithesis  —  thoughtful,  slow,  serious,  even-tem 
pered,  frank,  quiet,  unconscious  of  her  beauty, 
and  with  that  wonderful  thing,  a  voice  tender 
and  low  and  sympathetic  and  full  of  an  elo 
quence  I  could  never  understand,  although  I 
felt  it  to  my  finger-tips.  I  could  not  help  loving 
her,  and,  indeed,  what  man  with  any  life  in  him 
feels  not  the  power  of  such  a  woman  ?  That 
morning,  on  the  woods-pike,  I  reduced  the  prob 
lem  to  its  simplest  terms :  the  one  was  a  physical 
type,  the  other  a  spiritual. 

"  M'sieur  le  Capitaine,"  said  Louison,  as  I 
rode  by  the  carriage,  "  what  became  of  the  tall 
woman  last  night  ? " 

"  Left  us  there  in  the  woods,"  I  answered. 
"  She  was  afraid  of  you." 


D'RI  AND   I  323 

"  Afraid  of  me  !     Why  ? " 

"  Well,  I  understand  that  you  boxed  her  ears 
shamefully." 

A  merry  peal  of  laughter  greeted  my  words. 

"  It  was  too  bad ;  you  were  very  harsh,"  said 
Louise,  soberly. 

"  I  could  not  help  it ;  she  was  an  ugly,  awk 
ward  thing,"  said  Louison.  "  I  could  have 
pulled  her  nose." 

"  And  it  seems  you  called  her  a  g^ante  also," 
I  said.  "  She  was  quite  offended." 

"  It  was  a  compliment,"  said  the  girl.  "  She 
was  an  Amazon  —  like  the  count's  statue  of 
Jeanne  d'Arc." 

"Poor  thing!  she  could  not  help  it,"  said 
Louise. 

"  Well,"  said  Louison,  with  a  sigh  of  regret, 
"  if  I  ever  see  her  again  I  shall  give  her  a  five- 
franc  piece." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  and  she  broke 
it. 

"  I  hope,  this  afternoon,  you  will  let  me  ride 
that  horse,"  said  she. 

"  On  one  condition,"  was  my  reply. 

"And  it  is  —  ?" 


D'RI  AND  I  324 

"  That  you  will  let  me  ride  yours  at  the  same 
time." 

"Agreed,"  was  her  answer.  "  Shall  we  go  at 
three  ? " 

"  With  the  consent  of  the  baroness  and  —  and 
your  father,"  I  said. 

"  Father !  "  exclaimed  the  two  girls. 

"  Your  father,"  I  repeated.  "  He  is  now  at 
the  chateau." 

"  Heavens !  "  said  Louison. 

"  What  will  he  say  ?  "  said  the  baroness. 

"  I  am  so  glad  —  my  dear  papa !  "  said  Louise, 
clapping  her  hands. 

We  were  out  of  the  woods  now,  and  could  see 
the  chateau  in  the  uplands. 


XXIV 


:HERE  was  a  dignity  in  the 
manners  of  M.  de  Lambert  to 
me  formidable  and  oppressive. 
It  showed  in  his  tall,  erect 
figure,  his  deep  tone,  his  sil 
vered  hair  and  mustache.  There  was  a  merry 
word  between  the  kisses  of  one  daughter; 
between  those  of  the  other  only  tears  and  a 
broken  murmur. 

"  Oh,  papa,"  said  Louison,  as  she  greeted 
him,  "I  do  love  you  —  but  I  dread  that  — 
tickly  old  mustache.  Mon  Dieu!  what  a 
lover  —  you  must  have  been!" 

Then  she  presented  me,  and  put  her  hand 
upon  my  arm,  looking  proudly  at  her  father. 

"  My  captain  !  "  said  she.  "  Did  you  ever  see 
a  handsomer  Frenchman  ?  " 

"There  are  many,  and  here  is  one,"  said  he, 
turning  to  the  young  count,  who  stood  behind 


D'RI  AND    I  326 

him  —  a  fine  youth,  tall,  strong-built,  well-spoken, 
with  blond  hair  and  dark,  keen  eyes.  I  admit 
frankly  I  had  not  seen  a  better  figure  of  a  man. 
I  assure  you,  he  had  the  form  of  Hercules,  the 
eye  of  Mars.  It  was  an  eye  to  command  — 
women ;  for  I  had  small  reason  to  admire  his 
courage  when  I  knew  him  better.  He  took  a 
hand  of  each  young  lady,  and  kissed  it  with 
admirable  gallantry. 

"  Dieu !  it  is  not  so  easy  always  to  agree  with 
one's  father,"  said  Louison. 

We  went  riding  that  afternoon  —  The"rese  and 
her  marquis  and  Louison  and  I.  The  first  two 
went  on  ahead  of  us ;  we  rode  slowly,  and  for  a 
time  no  word  was  spoken.  Winds  had  stripped 
the  timber,  and  swept  its  harvest  to  the  walls  and 
hollows,  where  it  lay  bleaching  in  the  sun.  Birch 
and  oak  and  maple  were  holding  bared  arms  to 
the  wind,  as  if  to  toughen  them  for  storm  and 
stress.  I  felt  a  mighty  sadness,  wondering  if 
my  own  arms  were  quite  seasoned  for  all  that 
was  to  come.  The  merry-hearted  girl  beside 
me  was  ever  like  a  day  of  June  —  the  color  of 
the  rose  in  her  cheek,  its  odor  always  in  her 
hair  and  lace.  There  was  never  an  hour  of 
autumn  in  her  life. 


D'RI  AND    I  327 

"Alas,  you  are  a  very  silent  man !  "  said  she, 
presently,  with  a  little  sigh. 

"  Only  thinking,"  I  said. 

"Of  what?" 

"  Dieu  !  of  the  dead  summer,"  I  continued. 

"  Believe  me,  it  does  not  pay  to  think,"  she 
interrupted.  "I  tried  it  once,  and  made  a  sad 
discovery." 

"Of  what?" 

"A  fool!  "  said  she,  laughing. 

"  I  should  think  it  —  it  might  have  been  a 
coquette,"  said  I,  lightly. 

"  Why,  upon  my  word,"  said  she,  "  I  believe 
you  misjudge  me.  Do  you  think  me  heartless  ? " 

For  the  first  time  I  saw  a  shadow  in  her  face. 

"  No ;  but  you  are  young  and  —  and  beautiful, 
and  —  " 

"  What  ?  "  she  broke  in  impatiently,  as  I  hesi 
tated.  "I  long  to  know." 

"  Men  will  love  you  in  spite  of  all  you  can  do," 
I  added. 

"  Captain  ! "  said  she,  turning  her  face  away. 

"  Many  will  love  you,  and  —  and  you  can 
choose  only  one  —  a  very  hard  thing  to  do  — 
possibly." 


D'RI  AND   I  328 

"  Not  hard,"  said  she,  "  if  I  see  the  right  one 
—  and  —  and  —  he  loves  me  also." 

I  had  kept  myself  well  in  hand,  for  I  was  full 
of  doubts  that  day;  but  the  clever  girl  came 
near  taking  me,  horse,  foot,  and  guns,  that 
moment.  She  spoke  so  charmingly,  she  looked 
so  winning,  and  then,  was  it  not  easy  to  ask  if  I 
were  the  lucky  one  ?  She  knew  I  loved  her,  I 
knew  that  she  had  loved  me,  and  I  might  as  well 
confess.  But  no  ;  I  was  not  ready. 

"You  must  be  stern  with  the  others;  you 
must  not  let  them  tell  you,"  I  went  on. 

"  Ciel !  "  said  she,  laughing,  "  one  might  as 
well  go  to  a  nunnery.  May  not  a  girl  enjoy  her 
beauty  ?  It  is  sweet  to  her." 

"  But  do  not  make  it  bitter  for  the  poor  men. 
Dieu !  I  am  one  of  them,  and  know  their 
sorrows." 

"  And  you  —  you  have  been  in  love  ?  " 

"  Desperately,"  I  answered,  clinging  by  the 
finger-tips.  Somehow  we  kept  drifting  into  fate 
ful  moments  when  a  word  even  might  have 
changed  all  that  has  been  —  our  life  way,  the 
skies  above  us,  the  friends  we  have  known,  our 
loves,  our  very  souls. 


D'RI  AND  I  329 

She  turned,  smiling,  her  beauty  flashing  up  at 
me  with  a  power  quite  irresistible.  I  shut  my 
eyes  a  moment,  summoning  all  my  forces. 
There  was  only  a  step  between  me  and  —  God 
knows  what ! 

"  Captain,  you  are  a  foolish  fellow,"  said  she, 
with  a  little  shudder.  "  And  I  —  well,  I  am 
cold.  Parbleu !  feel  my  hand." 

She  had  drawn  her  glove  quickly,  and  held 
out  her  hand,  white  and  beautiful,  a  dainty 
finger  in  a  gorget  of  gems.  That  little  cold, 
trembling  hand  seemed  to  lay  hold  of  my  heart 
and  pull  me  to  her.  As  my  lips  touched  the 
palm  I  felt  its  mighty  magic.  Dear  girl !  I  won 
der  if  she  planned  that  trial  for  me. 

"  We  must  —  ride  —  faster.  You  —  you  — 
are  cold,"  I  stammered. 

She  held  her  hand  so  that  the  sunlight 
flashed  in  the  jewels,  and  looked  down  upon 
it  proudly. 

"  Do  you  think  it  beautiful  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes,  and  wonderful,"  I  said.  "But,  mark 
me,  it  is  all  a  sacred  trust  —  the  beauty  you 
have." 

"Sacred?" 


D'RI  AND   I 


33° 


"  More  sacred  than  the  power  of  kings,"  I 
said. 

"Preacher!"  said  she,  with  a  smile.  "You 
should  give  yourself  to  the  church." 

"  I  can  do  better  with  the  sword  of  steel,"  I 
said. 

"  But  do  not  be  sad.  Cheer  up,  dear  fellow  !  " 
she  went  on,  patting  my  elbow  with  a  pretty 
mockery.  "We  women  are  not  —  not  so  bad. 
When  I  find  the  man  I  love — " 

Her  voice  faltered  as  she  began  fussing  with 
her  stirrup. 

I  turned  with  a  look  of  inquiry,  changing 
quickly  to  one  of  admiration. 

"  I  shall  make  him  love  mey  if  I  can,"  she 
went  on  soberly. 

"  And  if  he  does  ? "  I  queried,  my  blood 
quickening  as  our  eyes  met. 

"  Dieu !  I  would  do  anything  for  him,"  said 
she. 

I  turned  away,  looking  off  at  the  brown  fields. 
Ah,  then,  for  a  breath,  my  heart  begged  my  will 
for  utterance.  The  first  word  passed  my  lips 
when  there  came  a  sound  of  galloping  hoofs  and 
Th^rese  and  the  marquis. 


D'RI  AND  I  331 

"  Come,  dreamers,"  said  the  former,  as  they 
pulled  up  beside  us.  "  A  cold  dinner  is  the 
worst  enemy  of  happiness." 

"  And  he  is  the  worst  robber  that  shortens 
the  hour  of  love,"  said  the  marquis,  smiling. 

We  turned,  following  them  at  a  swift  gallop. 
They  had  helped  me  out  of  that  mire  of  ecstasy, 
and  now  I  was  glad,  for,  on  my  soul,  I  believed 
the  fair  girl  had  found  one  more  to  her  liking, 
and  was  only  playing  for  my  scalp.  And  at  last 
I  had  begun  to  know  my  own  heart,  or  thought 
I  had. 

D'ri  came  over  that  evening  with  a  letter 
from  General  Brown.  He  desired  me  to  report 
for  duty  next  day  at  two. 

"  War  —  it  is  forever  war,"  said  The"rese,  when 
I  told  her  at  dinner.  "  There  is  to  be  a  coach 
ing-party  to-morrow,  and  we  shall  miss  you,  cap 
tain." 

"Can  you  not  soon  return?"  said  the  bar 
oness. 

"  I  fear  not,"  was  my  answer.  "  It  is  to  be  a 
long  campaign." 

"Oh,  the  war!  When  will  it  ever  end?" 
said  Louise,  sighing. 


D'RI  AND   I  332 

"  When  we  are  all  dead,"  said  Louison. 

"  Of  loneliness  ? "  said  the  old  count,  with  a 
smile. 

"  No;  of  old  age,"  said  Louison,  quickly. 

"  When  the  army  goes  into  Canada  it  will  go 
into  trouble,"  said  the  Comte  de  Chaumont, 
speaking  in  French.  "We  shall  have  to  get 
you  out  of  captivity,  captain." 

"  Louise  would  rescue  him,"  said  her  sister. 
"  She  has  influence  there." 

"Would  you  pay  my  ransom?"  I  inquired, 
turning  to  her. 

"With  my  life,"  said  she,  solemnly. 

"  Greater  love  hath  no  man  than  this,"  said  the 
good  Pere  Joulin,  smiling  as  the  others  laughed. 

"And  none  has  greater  obligation,"  said 
Louise,  blushing  with  embarrassment.  "  Has 
he  not  brought  us  three  out  of  captivity  ? " 

"Well,  if  I  am  taken,"  I  said,  "nothing  can 
bring  me  back  unless  it  be  —  " 

"  A  miracle  ? "  the  baroness  prompted  as  I 
paused. 

"Yes;  even  a  resurrection,"  was  my  answer. 
"  I  know  what  it  means  for  a  man  to  be  captured 
there  these  days." 


D'RI  AND   I  333 

Louise  sat  beside  me,  and  I  saw  what  others 
failed  to  notice  —  her  napkin  stop  quickly  on  its 
way  to  her  lips,  her  hand  tighten  as  it  held 
the  white  linen.  It  made  me  regretful  of  my 
thoughtless  answer,  but  oddly  happy  for  a  mo 
ment.  Then  they  all  besought  me  for  some 
adventure  of  those  old  days  in  the  army.  I  told 
them  the  story  of  the  wasps,  and,  when  I  had 
finished,  our  baroness  told  of  the  trouble  it  led 
to  —  their  capture  and  imprisonment. 

"  It  was  very  strange,"  said  she,  in  conclu 
sion.  "That  Englishman  grew  kinder  every 
day  we  were  there,  until  we  began  to  feel  at 
home." 

They  were  all  mystified,  but  I  thought  I 
could  understand  it.  We  had  a  long  evening 
of  music,  and  I  bade  them  all  good-by  before 
going  to  bed,  for  they  were  to  be  off  early. 

Well,  the  morning  came  clear,  and  before  I 
was  out  of  bed  I  heard  the  coach-horn,  the 
merry  laughter  of  ladies  under  my  window,  the 
prancing  hoofs,  and  the  crack  of  the  whip  > as 
they  all  went  away.  It  surprised  me  greatly 
to  find  Louise  at  the  breakfast  table  when  I 
came  below-stairs ;  I  shall  not  try  to  say  how 


D'RI  AND   I  334 

much  it  pleased  me.  She  was  gowned  in  pink, 
a  red  rose  at  her  bosom.  I  remember,  as  if  it 
were  yesterday,  the  brightness  of  her  big  eyes, 
the  glow  in  her  cheeks,  the  sweet  dignity  of  her 
tall,  fine  figure  when  she  rose  and  gave  me  her 
hand. 

"  I  did  feel  sorry,  ma'm'selle,  that  I  could  not 
go;  but  now — now  I  am  happy,"  was  my  remark. 

"  Oh,  captain,  you  are  very  gallant,"  said  she, 
as  we  took  seats.  "  I  was  not  in  the  mood  for 
merrymaking,  and  then,  I  am  reading  a  book." 

"A  book!  May  its  covers  be  the  gates  of 
happiness,"  I  answered. 

"  Eh  bien  !  it  is  a  tale  of  love,"  said  she. 

"  Of  a  man  for  a  woman  ?  "  I  inquired. 

"  Of  a  lady  that  loved  two  knights,  and  knew 
not  which  the  better." 

"  Is  it  possible  and  —  and  reasonable  ?  "  I 
inquired.  "In  a  tale  things  should  go  as  — 
well,  as  God  plans  them." 

"Quite  possible,"  said  she,  "for  in  such  a 
thing  as  love  who  knows  what  —  what  may 
happen  ? " 

"  Except  he  have  a  wide  experience,"  I 
answered. 


D'RI  AND   I  335 

"  And  have  God's  eyes,"  said  she.  "  Let  me 
tell  you.  They  were  both  handsome,  brave, 
splendid,  of  course,  but  there  was  a  difference : 
the  one  had  a  more  perfect  beauty  of  form  and 
face,  the  other  a  nobler  soul." 

"  And  which  will  she  favor  ?  " 

"  Alas !  I  have  not  read,  and  do  not  know 
her  enough  to  judge,"  was  her  answer;  "but  I 
shall  hate  her  if  she  does  not  take  him  with  the 
better  soul." 

"  And  why  ? "  I  could  hear  my  heart 
beating. 

"  Love  is  not  love  unless  it  be  — "  She 
paused,  thinking.  "  Dieu !  from  soul  to  soul," 
she  added  feelingly. 

She  was  looking  down,  a  white,  tapered 
finger  stirring  the  red  petals  of  the  rose.  Then 
she  spoke  in  a  low,  sweet  tone  that  trembled 
with  holy  feeling  and  cut  me  like  a  sword  of 
the  spirit  going  to  its  very  hilt  in  my  soul. 

"  Love  looks  to  what  is  noble,"  said  she,  "  or 
it  is  vain  —  it  is  wicked ;  it  fails ;  it  dies  in  ,a 
day,  like  the  rose.  True  love,  that  is  forever." 

"  What  if  it  be  hopeless  ?  "  I  whispered. 

"  Ah !  then   it  is  very  bitter,"  said    she,  her 


D'RI  AND   I  336 

voice  diminishing.  "  It  may  kill  the  body,  but 
—  but  love  does  not  die.  When  it  comes  —  " 

There  was  a  breath  of  silence  that  had  in  it 
a  strange  harmony  not  of  this  world. 

"  '  When  it  comes  '  ?  "  I  whispered. 

"  You  see  the  coming  of  a  great  king,"  said 
she,  looking  down  thoughtfully,  her  chin  upon 
her  hand. 

"  And  all  people  bow  their  heads,"  I  said. 

"Yes,"  she  added,  with  a  sigh,  "and  give 
their  bodies  to  be  burned,  if  he  ask  it.  The 
king  is  cruel — sometimes." 

"  Dieu  !  "  said  I.     "  He  has  many  captives." 

She  broke  a  sprig  of  fern,  twirling  it  in  her 
fingers ;  her  big  eyes  looked  up  at  me,  and  saw, 
I  know,  to  the  bottom  of  my  soul. 

"  But  long  live  the  king !  "  said  she,  her  lips 
trembling,  her  cheeks  as  red  as  the  rose  upon 
her  bosom. 

"  Long  live  the  king !  "  I  murmured. 

We  dared  go  no  farther.  Sweet  philosopher, 
inspired  of  Heaven,  I  could  not  bear  the  look 
of  her,  and  rose  quickly  with  dim  eyes  and  went 
out  of  the  open  door.  A  revelation  had  come 
to  me.  Mere  de  Dieu !  how  I  loved  that 


D'RI  AND   I  337 

woman  so  fashioned  in  thy  image !  She  fol 
lowed  me,  and  laid  her  hand  upon  my  arm  ten 
derly,  while  I  shook  with  emotion. 

"  Captain,"  said  she,  in  that  sweet  voice, 
"  captain,  what  have  I  done  ?  " 

It  was  the  first  day  of  the  Indian  summer, 
a  memorable  season  that  year,  when,  according 
to  an  old  legend,  the  Great  Father  sits  idly  on 
the  mountain-tops  and  blows  the  smoke  of  his 
long  pipe  into  the  valleys.  In  a  moment  I  was 
quite  calm,  and  stood  looking  off  to  the  hazy 
hollows  of  the  far  field.  I  gave  her  my  arm 
without  speaking,  and  we  walked  slowly  down 
a  garden  path.  For  a  time  neither  broke  the 
silence. 

"I  did  not  know  —  I  did  not  know,"  she 
whispered  presently. 

"  And  I  —  must  —  tell  you,"  I  said  brokenly, 
"that  I— that  I  —  " 

"  Hush-sh-sh !  "  she  whispered,  her  hand 
over  my  lips.  "  Say  no  more !  say  no  more ! 
If  it  is  true,  go  —  go  quickly,  I  beg  of 
you  !  " 

There  was  such  a  note  of  pleading  in  her 
voice,  I  hear  it,  after  all  this  long  time,  in  the 


D'RI  AND    I  338 

hushed  moments  of  my  life,  night  or  day.  "  Go 
—  go  quickly,  I  beg  of  you!"  We  were  both 
near  breaking  down. 

"  Vive  le  roi !  "  I  whispered,  taking  her  hand. 

"  Vive  le  roi !  "  she  whispered,  turning  away. 


XXV  339 

OW  empty  and  weak  are  my 
words  that  try  to  tell  of  that 
day !  I  doubt  if  there  is  in 
them  anywhere  what  may  sug 
gest,  even  feebly,  the  height 
and  depth  of  that  experience  or  one  ray  of 
the  light  in  her  face.  There  are  the  words 
nearly  as  we  said  them ;  there  are  the  sighs, 
the  glances,  the  tears  :  but  everywhere  there  is 
much  missing  —  that  fair  young  face  and  a 
thousand  things  irresistible  that  drift  in  with 
every  tide  of  high  feeling.  Of  my  history  there 
is  not  much  more  to  write,  albeit  some  say  the 
best  is  untold. 

I  had  never  such  a  heart  of  lead  as  went  with* 
me  to  my  work  that  afternoon.  What  became 
of  me  I  cared  not  a  straw  then,  for  I  knew  my 
love  was  hopeless.  D'ri  met  me  as  I  got  off 


D'RI  AND   I 


34° 


my  horse  at  the  Harbor.  His  keen  eye  saw  my 
trouble  quickly  —  saw  near  to  the  bottom  of  it. 

"  Be'n  hit  ? "  said  he,  his  great  hand  on  my 
shoulder. 

"  With  trouble,"  I  answered.  "  Torn  me  up 
a  little  inside." 

"Thought  so,"  he  remarked  soberly.  " Judas 
Priest !  ye  luk  es  ef  a  shell  'ad  bu'st  'n  yer  cock 
pit.  Ain'  nuthin'  '11  spile  a  man  quicker.  Sheer 
off  a  leetle  an'  git  out  o'  range.  An'  'member, 
Ray,  don't  never  give  up  the  ship.  Thet  air  's 
whut  Perry  tol'  us." 

I  said  nothing  and  walked  away,  but  have 
always  remembered  his  counsel,  there  was  so 
much  of  his  big  heart  in  it.  The  army  was  to 
move  immediately,  in  that  foolish  campaign  of 
Wilkinson  that  ended  with  disaster  at  Chrys 
ler's  Farm.  They  were  making  the  boats,  small 
craft  with  oars,  of  which  three  hundred  or  more 
would  be  needed  to  carry  us.  We  were  to  go 
eastward  on  the  river  and  join  Hampden,  whose 
corps  was  to  march  overland  to  Plattsburg,  at 
some  point  on  the  north  shore.  Word  came, 
while  I  was  away,  that  down  among  the  islands 
our  enemy  had  been  mounting  cannon.  It 


D'RI  AND   I  341 

looked  as  if  our  plan  had  leaked,  as  if,  indeed, 
there  were  good  chance  of  our  being  blown  out 
of  water  the  first  day  of  our  journey.  So,  be 
fore  the  army  started,  I  was  to  take  D'ri  and 
eleven  others,  with  four  boats,  and  go  down  to 
reconnoitre. 

We  got  away  before  sundown  that  day ,.  and, 
as  dark  came,  were  passing  the  southwest 
corner  of  Wolf  Island.  I  was  leading  the  little 
fleet,  and  got  ashore,  intending  to  creep  along 
the  edge  and  rejoin  them  at  the  foot  of  the 
island.  I  had  a  cow-bell,  muted  with  cork,  and 
was  to  clang  it  for  a  signal  in  case  of  need. 
Well,  I  was  a  bit  more  reckless  that  night  than 
ever  I  had  been.  Before  I  had  gone  twenty 
rods  I  warned  them  to  flee  and  leave  me.  I 
heard  a  move  in  the  brush,  and  was  backing  off, 
when  a  light  flashed  on  me,  and  I  felt  the  touch 
of  a  bayonet.  Then  quickly  I  saw  there  was 
no  help  for  me,  and  gave  the  signal,  for  I  was 
walled  in.  Well,  I  am  not  going  to  tell  the 
story  of  my  capture.  My  sabre  could  serve  me 
well,  but,  heavens !  it  was  no  magic  wand  such 
as  one  may  read  of  in  the  story-books.  I  knew 
then  it  would  serve  me  best  in  the  scabbard. 


D'RI  AND   I  342 

There  were  few  words  and  no  righting  in  the 
ceremony.  I  gave  up,  and  let  them  bind  my 
arms.  In  two  hours  they  had  me  in  jail,  I 
knew  not  where.  In  the  morning  they  let  me 
send  a  note  to  Lord  Ronley,  who  was  now 
barely  two  days  out  of  his  own  trouble.  A 
week  passed ;  I  was  to  be  tried  for  a  spy,  and 
saw  clearly  the  end  of  it  all.  Suddenly,  a  morn 
ing  when  my  hopes  were  gone,  I  heard  the 
voice  of  his  Lordship  in  the  little  corridor.  A 
keeper  came  with  him  to  the  door  of  my  cell, 
and  opened  it. 

"  The  doctor,"  said  he. 

"Well,  well,  old  fellow,"  said  Ronley,  clap 
ping  me  on  the  shoulder,  "you  are  ill,  I  hear." 

"  Really,  I  do  not  wish  to  alarm  you,"  I  said, 
smiling,  "  but  —  but  it  does  look  serious." 

He  asked  me  to  show  my  tongue,  and  I 
did  so. 

"  Cheer  up,"  said  he,  presently ;  "  I  have 
brought  you  this  pill.  It  is  an  excellent 
remedy." 

He  had  taken  from  his  pocket  a  brown  pill 
of  the  size  of  a  large  pea,  and  sat  rolling  it  in 
his  palm.  Had  he  brought  me  poison  ? 


D'RI  AND   I  343 

"  I  suppose  it  is  better  than  —  " 

He  shot  a  glance  at  me  as  if  to  command 
silence,  then  he  put  the  pill  in  my  palm.  I  saw 
it  was  of  brown  tissue  rolled  tightly. 

"  Don't  take  it  now,"  said  he ;  "  too  soon  after 
breakfast.  Wait  half  an  hour.  A  cup  of 
water,"  he  added,  turning  to  the  guard,  who 
left  us  for  a  moment. 

He  leaned  to  my  ear  and  whispered :  — 

"  Remember,"  said  he,  "  2  is  a,  and  3  is  b, 
and  so  on.  Be  careful  until  the  guard 
changes." 

He  handed  me  a  small  watch  as  he  was 
leaving. 

"  It  may  be  good  company,"  he  remarked. 

I  unrolled  the  tissue  as  soon  as  I  was  alone. 
It  was  covered  with  these  figures  :  — 
21-24-6-13-23-6 

21-16-15-10-8-9-21  4-6-13-13  5-16-16-19  22-15- 
13-16-4-12-6-5  13-10-7-21  20-14-2-13-13  24-10-15- 
5-16-24  10-154-16-19-19-10-5-16-193-2-4-12  21-16 
24-2-13-13  8-16  19-10-8-9-21  21-16  19-16-2-5  13- 
6-7-21  200  17-2-4-6-20  2 1- 1 6  17-2-21-9  13-6-7-21 
21-16  19-10-23-6-19  19-10-8-9-21  21-24-6-15-21-26 
21-16  21-9-10-4-12-6-21. 


D'RI  AND   I  344 

I  made  out  the  reading,  shortly,  as  follows  :  — 

"Twelve  to-night  cell  door  unlocked.  Lift 
small  window  in  corridor.  Back  to  wall  go 
right  to  road.  Left  two  hundred  paces  to  path. 
Left  to  river.  Right  twenty  to  thicket." 

Having  read  the  figures,  I  rolled  the  tissue 
firmly,  and  hid  it  in  my  ear.  It  was  a  day  of 
some  excitement,  I  remember,  for  that  very 
afternoon  I  was  condemned  to  death.  A 
priest,  having  heard  of  my  plight,  came  in  that 
evening,  and  offered  me  the  good  ministry  of 
the  church.  The  words,  the  face,  of  that  simple 
man,  filled  me  with  a  deep  tenderness  for  all 
who  seek  in  the  shadows  of  this  world  with  the 
lantern  of  God's  mercy.  Never,  so  long  as  I 
live,  shall  an  ill  word  of  them  go  unrebuked  in 
my  hearing.  He  left  me  at  10.30,  and  as  he 
went  away,  my  jailer  banged  the  iron  door  with 
out  locking  it.  Then  I  lay  down  there  in  the 
dark,  and  began  to  tell  off  the  time  by  my  heart 
beats,  allowing  forty-five  hundred  to  the  hour, 
and  was  not  far  wrong.  I  thought  much  of  his 
Lordship  as  I  waited.  To  him  I  had  been  of 
some  service,  but,  surely,  not  enough  to  explain 


D'RI  AND   I  345 

this  tender  regard,  involving,  as  it  must  have 
done,  bribery  and  no  small  degree  of  peril  to 
himself.  My  counting  over,  I  tried  the  door, 
which  swung  easily  as  I  put  my  hand  upon  it. 
The  little  corridor  was  dark  and  I  could  hear 
no  sound  save  the  snoring  of  a  drunken  soldier, 
committed  that  day  for  righting,  as  the  turnkey 
had  told  me.  I  found  the  small  window,  and 
slid  the  sash,  and  let  my  boots  fall  to  the 
ground,  then  climbing  through  and  dropping 
on  them.  It  was  a  dark  night,  but  I  was  not 
long  in  reaching  the  road  and  pacing  my  way 
to  the  path  and  river.  His  Lordship  and  a 
boatman  lay  in  the  thicket  waiting  for  me. 

"This  way,"  the  former  whispered,  taking 
my  arm  and  leading  me  to  the  mouth  of  a  little 
brook,  where  a  boat  was  tied,  the  bottom  muffled 
with  blankets.  I  took  the  stern  seat,  his  Lord 
ship  the  bow,  and  we  pushed  off.  The-  boatman, 
a  big,  husky  fellow,  had  been  rowing  a  long 
hour  when  we  put  into  a  cove  under  the  high 
shore  of  an  island.  I  could  see  a  moving  glow 
back  in  the  bushes.  It  swung  slowly,  like  a  pen 
dulum  of  light,  with  a  mighty  flit  and  tumble  of 
shadows.  We  tied  our  boat,  climbed  the  shore, 


D'RI  AND   I  346 

and  made  slowly  for  the  light.  Nearing  it,  his 
Lordship  whistled  twice,  and  got  answer.  The 
lantern  was  now  still ;  it  lighted  the  side  of  a 
soldier  in  high  boots  ;  and  suddenly  I  saw  it  was 
D'ri.  I  caught  his  hand,  raising  it  to  my  lips. 
We  could  not  speak,  either  of  us.  He  stepped 
aside,  lifting  the  lantern.  God !  there  stood 
Louise.  She  was  all  in  black,  her  head  bent 
forward. 

"  Dear  love  ! "  I  cried,  grasping  her  hands, 
"  why  —  why  have  you  come  here  ? " 

She  turned  her  face  away,  and  spoke  slowly, 
her  voice  trembling  with  emotion. 

"  To  give  my  body  to  be  burned,"  said  she. 

I  turned,  lifting  my  arm  to  smite  the  man 
who  had  brought  me  there ;  but  lo !  some 
stronger  hand  had  struck  him,  some  wonder 
working  power  of  a  kind  that  removes  mountains. 
Lord  Ronley  was  wiping  his  eyes. 

"I  cannot  do  this  thing,"  said  he,  in  a  broken 
voice.  "  I  cannot  do  this  thing.  Take  her  and 

go." 

D'ri  had  turned  away  to  hide  his  feelings. 
"  Take  them  to  your  boat,"  said  his  Lordship. 
"Wait  a  minute,"  said  D'ri,  fixing  his  lantern. 


D'RI  AND   I  347 

"  Judas  Priest !  I  ain't  got  no  stren'th.  I  'm  all 
tore  t'  shoe-strings." 

I  took  her  arm,  and  we  followed  D'ri  to  the 
landing,  Lord  Ronley  coming  with  us. 

"  Good-by,"  said  he,  leaning  to  push  us  off. 
"  I  am  a  better  man  for  knowing  you.  Dear 
girl,  you  have  put  all  the  evil  out  of  me." 

He  held  a  moment  to  the  boat,  taking  my 
hand  as  I  came  by  him. 

"  Bell,"  said  he,  "  henceforward  may  there  be 
peace  between  you  and  me." 

"  And  between  your  country  and  mine,"  I 
answered. 

And,  thank  God  !  the  war  was  soon  over,  and 
ever  since  there  has  been  peace  between  the  two 
great  peoples.  I  rejoice  that  even  we  old  men 
have  washed  our  hearts  of  bitterness,  and  that 
the  young  have  now  more  sense  of  brotherhood. 

Above  all  price  are  the  words  of  a  wise  man, 
but  silence,  that  is  the  great  counsellor.  In 
silence  wisdom  enters  the  heart  and  understand 
ing  puts  forth  her  voice.  In  the  hush  of  that 
night  ride  I  grew  to  manhood ;  I  put  away 
childish  things.  I  saw,  or  thought  I  saw,  the 
two  great  powers  of  good  and  evil.  One  was 


D'RI  AND   I  348 

love,  with  the  power  of  God  in  it  to  lift  up,  to 
ennoble ;  the  other,  love's  counterfeit,  a  cunning 
device  of  the  devil,  with  all  his  power  to  wreck 
and  destroy,  deceiving  him  that  has  taken  it 
until  he  finds  at  last  he  has  neither  gold  nor 
silver,  but  only  base  metal  hanging  as  a  millstone 
to  his  neck. 

At  dawn  we  got  ashore  on  Battle  Point.  We 
waited  there,  Louise  and  I,  while  D'ri  went 
away  to  bring  horses.  The  sun  rose  clear  and 
warm  ;  it  was  like  a  summer  morning,  but  stiller, 
for  the  woods  had  lost  their  songful  tenantry. 
We  took  the  forest  road,  walking  slowly.  Some 
bugler  near  us  had  begun  to  play  the  song  of 
Yankee-land.  Its  phrases  travelled  like  waves 
in  the  sea,  some  high-crested,  moving  with  a 
mighty  rush,  filling  the  valleys,  mounting  the 
hills,  tossing  their  spray  aloft,  flooding  all  the 
shores  of  silence.  Far  and  near,  the  trees  were 
singing  in  praise  of  my  native  land. 

"  Ramon,"  said  Louise,  looking  up  at  me,  a 
sweet  and  queenly  dignity  in  her  face,  "  I  have 
come  to  love  this  country." 

"And  you  could  not  have  done  so  much  for 
me  unless  you  had  loved  —  " 


D'RI  AND   I  349 

She  looked  up  at  me  quickly,  and  put  her 
finger  to  her  lips.  My  tongue  faltered,  obey 
ing  the  command.  How  sweet  and  beauti 
ful  she  was  then,  her  splendid  form  erect,  the 
light  of  her  eyes  softened  by  long  lashes ! 
She  looked  down  thoughtfully  as  she  gave  the 
bottom  of  her  gown  a  shake. 

"  Once  upon  a  time,"  said  she,  slowly,  as  our 

eyes   met   again,   "  there  was    a   little   country 

that   had   a  cruel  king.       And  he  commanded 

that  none  of  all  his  people  should  speak  until 

-until  —  " 

She  hesitated,  stirring  the  dead  leaves  with 
her  dainty  foot. 

"  Until  a  great  mountain  had  been  removed 
and  buried  in  the  sea,"  she  added  in  a  low 
tone. 

"  Ah,  that  was  hard." 

"  Especially  for  the  ladies,"  she  went  on, 
sighing.  "  Dieu !  they  could  only  sit  and  hold 
their  tongues  and  weep  and  feel  very  foolish. 

And  the  longer  they  were  silent  the  more  they 

> 

had  to  say." 

"  And  those  who  broke  the  law?"  I  inquired. 
"  Were  condemned  to  silence  for  their  lives," 


D'RI  AND   I 


35° 


she  answered.     "  Come,  we  are  both  in  danger; 
let  us  go." 

A  bit  farther  on  we  came  to  a  log  house 
where  a  veteran  of  the  old  war  sat  playing  his 
bugle,  and  a  motherly  woman  bade  us  sit  awhile 
at  the  door-step. 


XXVI  35  * 

RI  came  soon  with  horses,  one 
the  black  thoroughbred  of  Louise 
which  had  brought  her  on  this 
errand.  We  gave  them  free 
rein,  heading  for  the  chateau. 
Not  far  up  the  woods-pike  we  met  M.  de 
Lambert  and  the  old  count.  The  former  was 
angry,  albeit  he  held  himself  in  hand  as  be 
came  a  gentleman,  save  that  he  was  a  bit  too 
cool  with  me. 

"  My  girl,  you  have  upset  us  terribly,"  said 
the  learned  doctor.  "  I  should  like  to  be  hon 
ored  with  your  confidence." 

"  And  I  with  your  kindness,  dear  father," 
said  she,  as  her  tears  began  falling.  "  I  am 
much  in  need  of  it." 

"  She  has  saved  my  life,  m'sieur,"  I  said. 
"  Then    go  to   your  work,"    said   he,  coolly, 
"  and  make  the  most  of  it." 


D'RI  AND   I 


352 


"Ah,  sir,  I  had  rather  — " 

"  Good-by,"  said  Louise,  giving  me  her  hand. 

"  Au  revoir,"  I  said  quickly,  and  wheeled  my 
horse  and  rode  away. 

The  boats  were  ready.  The  army  was  wait 
ing  for  the  order,  now  expected  any  moment, 
to  move.  General  Brown  had  not  been  at  his 
quarters  for  a  day. 

" Judas  Priest!"  said  D'ri,  when  we  were 
alone  together,  "thet  air  gal 'd  go  through  fire 
an'  water  fer  you." 

"  You  're  mistaken,"  I  said. 

"No,  I  hain't  nuther,"  said  he.  "  Ef  I  be, 
I  'm  a  reg'lar  out-an'-out  fool,  hand  over  fist." 

He  whittled  a  moment  thoughtfully. 

"  Ain'  no  use  talkin',"  he  added,  "  I  can  tell 
a  hoss  from  a  jack-rabbit  any  day." 

"  Her  father  does  not  like  me,"  I  suggested. 

"  Don't  hev  to,"  said  D'ri,  calmly. 

He  cut  a  deep  slash  in  the  stick  he  held, 
then  added :  "  Don't  make  no  odds  ner  no  dif- 
f 'rence  one  way  er  t'  other.  I  did  n't  like  th' 
measles,  but  I  hed  t'  hev  'em." 

"He'll  never  permit  a  marriage  with  me,"  I 
said. 


D'RI  AND  I  353 

"'T  ain't  nec'sary,"  he  declared  soberly.  "In 
this  'ere  country  don'  tek  only  tew  t'  mek 
a  bargain.  One  o'  the  blessin's  o'  liberty." 

He  squinted  up  at  the  sky,  delivering  his 
confidence  in  slowly  measured  phrases,  to  wit : 

"  Wouldn't  give  ten  cents  fer  no  man  'at  '11 
give  up  a  gal  'less  he  'd  orter  —  not  fer  nuthin' 
ner  nobody." 

I  was  called  out  of  bed  at  cockcrow  in  the 
morning.  The  baroness  and  a  footman  were 
at  the  door. 

"  Ah,  my  captain,  there  is  trouble,"  she  whis 
pered.  "  M.  de  Lambert  has  taken  his  daugh 
ters.  They  are  going  back  to  Paris,  bag  and 
baggage.  Left  in  the  evening." 

"  By  what  road  ?  " 

"  The  turnpike  militaire." 

"  Thanks,  and  good  morning,"  I  said.  "  I 
shall  overhaul  them." 

I  called  D'ri,  and  bade  him  feed  the  horses 
quickly.  I  went  to  see  General  Brown,  but  he 
and  Wilkinson  were  on  the  latter's  gig,  half  a 
mile  out  in  the  harbor.  I  scribbled  a  note  to 
the  farmer-general,  and,  leaving  it,  ran  to  the 
stables.  Our  horses  were  soon  ready,  and  D'ri 


D'RI  AND   I  354 

and  I  were  off  a  bit  after  daylight,  urging  up 
hill  and  down  at  a  swift  gallop,  and  making  the 
forest  ring  with  hoof-beats.  Far  beyond  the 
chateau  we  slackened  pace  and  went  along 
leisurely.  Soon  we  passed  the  town  where 
they  had  put  up  overnight,  and  could  see  the 
tracks  of  horse  and  coach-wheel.  D'ri  got  off 
and  examined  them  presently. 

"  Purty  fresh,"  he  remarked.  "  Can't  be 
more  'n  five  mild  er  so  further  on." 

We  rode  awhile  in  silence. 

"  How  ye  goin'  t'  tackle  'em  ? "  he  inquired 
presently. 

"  Going  to  stop  them  somehow,"  said  I,  "  and 
get  a  little  information." 

"  An'  mebbe  a  gal  ? "  he  suggested. 

"  Maybe  a  gal." 

"  Don'  care  s'  long  as  ye  dew  th'  talkin'.  I 
can  rassle  er  fight,  but  my  talk  in  a  rumpus  ain' 
fit  fer  no  woman  t'  hear,  thet  's  sart'in." 

We  overtook  the  coach  at  a  village,  near  ten 
o'clock. 

D'ri  rushed  on  ahead  of  them,  wheeling  with 
drawn  sabre.  The  driver  pulled  rein,  stopping 
quickly.  M.  de  Lambert  was  on  the  seat  beside 
him.  I  came  alongside. 


"  Then  I  leave  all  for  you:' 


D'RI  AND  I  355 

"Robbers!"  said  M.  de  Lambert  "  What 
do  you  mean  ?  " 

The  young  ladies  and  Brovel  were  looking 
out  of  the  door,  Louise  pale  and  troubled. 

"  No  harm  to  any,  m'sieur,"  I  answered. 
"  Put  up  your  pistol." 

I  opened  the  coach  door.  M.  de  Lambert, 
hissing  with  anger,  leaped  to  the  road.  I  knew 
he  would  shoot  me,  and  was  making  ready  to 
close  with  him,  when  I  heard  a  rustle  of  silk, 
and  saw  Louise  between  us,  her  tall  form  erect, 
her  eyes  forceful  and  commanding.  She 
stepped  quickly  to  her  father. 

"  Let  me  have  it !  "  said  she,  taking  the  pistol 
from  his  hand.  She  flung  it  above  the  heads  of 
some  village  folk  who  had  gathered  near  us. 

"  Why  do  you  stop  us  ?  "  she  whispered,  turn 
ing  to  me. 

"  So  you  may  choose  between  him  and  me," 
I  answered. 

"  Then  I  leave  all  for  you,"  said  she,  coming 
quickly  to  my  side. 

The  villagers  began  to  cheer,  and  old  D'ri 
flung  his  hat  in  the  air,  shouting,  "  Hurrah  fer 
love  an'  freedom  !  " 


D'RI  AND    I  356 

"An'  the  United  States  of  Ameriky,"  some 
one  added. 

"She  is  my  daughter,"  said  M.  de  Lambert, 
with  anger,  as  he  came  up  to  me.  "  I  may 
command  her,  and  I  shall  seek  the  aid  of  the 
law  as  soon  as  I  find  a  magistrate." 

"  But  see  that  you  find  him  before  we  find  a 
minister,"  I  said. 

"  The  dominie  !  Here  he  is,"  said  some  one 
near  us. 

"  Marry  them,"  said  another.  "  It  is  Captain 
Bell  of  the  army,  a  brave  and  honorable  man." 

Does  not  true  love,  wherever  seen,  spread  its 
own  quality  and  prosper  by  the  sympathy  it 
commands  ?  Louise  turned  to  the  good  man, 
taking  his  hand. 

"  Come,"  said  she,  "  there  is  no  time  to  lose." 

The  minister  came  to  our  help.  He  could  not 
resist  her  appeal,  so  sweetly  spoken.  There, 
under  an  elm  by  the  wayside,  with  some  score 
of  witnesses,  including  Louison  and  the  young 
Comte  de  Brovel,  who  came  out  of  the  coach 
and  stood  near,  he  made  us  man  and  wife.  We 
were  never  so  happy  as  when  we  stood  there 
hand  in  hand,  that  sunny  morning,  and  heard 


D'RI  AND   I  357 

the  prayer  for  God's  blessing,  and  felt  a  mighty 
uplift  in  our  hearts.  As  to  my  sweetheart,  there 
was  never  such  a  glow  in  her  cheeks,  such  a 
light  in  her  large  eyes,  such  a  grace  in  her  figure. 

"  Dear  sister,"  said  Louison,  kissing  her,  "  I 
wish  I  were  as  happy." 

"  And  you  shall  be  as  soon  as  you  get  to 
Paris,"  said  the  young  count. 

"Oh,  dear,  I  can  hardly  wait!"  said  the 
merry-hearted  girl,  looking  proudly  at  her  new 
lover. 

"  I  admire  your  pluck,  my  young  man,"  said 
M.  de  Lambert,  as  we  shook  hands.  "  You 
Americans  are  a  great  people.  I  surrender; 
I  am  not  going  to  be  foolish.  Turn  your 
horses,"  said  he,  motioning  to  the  driver.  "We 
shall  go  back  at  once." 

I  helped  Louise  into  the  coach  with  her  sister 
and  the  Comte  de  Brovel.  D'ri  and  I  rode  on 
behind  them,  the  village  folk  cheering  and  wav 
ing  their  hats. 

"  Ye  done  it  skilful,"  said  D'ri,  smiling. 
"Whut'd  I  tell  ye?" 

I  made  no  answer,  being  too  full  of  happi 
ness  at  the  moment. 


D'RI  AND   I  358 

"Tell  ye  one  thing,  Ray,"  he  went  on 
soberly:  "ef  a  boy  an'  a  gal  loves  one  'nother, 
an'  he  has  any  grit  in  'im,  can't  nuthin'  keep  'em 
apart  long." 

He  straightened  the  mane  of  his  horse,  and 
then  added  :  — 

"  Ner  they  can't  nuthin'  conquer  'em." 

Soon  after  two  o'clock  we  turned  in  at  the 
chateau. 

We  were  a  merry  company  at  luncheon,  the 
doctor  drinking  our  health  and  happiness  with 
sublime  resignation.  But  I  had  to  hurry  back 
—  that  was  the  worst  of  it  all.  Louise  walked 
with  me  to  the  big  gate,  where  were  D'ri  and 
the  horses.  We  stopped  a  moment  on  the  way. 

"  Again  ?  "  she  whispered,  her  sweet  face  on 
my  shoulder.  "  Yes,  and  as  often  as  you  like. 
No  more  now  —  there  is  D'ri.  Remember, 
sweetheart,  I  shall  look  and  pray  for  you  day 
and  night." 


XXVII  359 

OONER  or  later  all  things  come 
to  an  end,  including  wars  and 
histories,  —  a  God's  mercy  !  — 
and  even  the  lives  of  such  lucky 
men  as  I.  All  things,  did  I  say? 
Well,  what  wonder,  for  am  I  not  writing  of 
youth  and  far  delights  with  a  hand  trembling 
of  infirmity?  All  things  save  one,  I  meant 
to  say,  and  that  is  love,  the  immortal  vine, 
with  its  root  in  the  green  earth,  that  weathers 
every  storm,  and  "  groweth  not  old,"  and  climbs 
to  paradise ;  and  who  eats  of  its  fruit  has  in  him 
ever  a  thought  of  heaven  —  a  hope  immortal  as 
itself. 

This  book  of  my  life  ends  on  a  bright  morn 
ing  in  the  summer  of  '17,  at  the  new  home  *of 
James  Donatianus  Le  Ray,  Comte  de  Chau- 
mont,  the  chateau  having  burned  the  year 
before. 


D'RI  AND   I  360 

President  Monroe  is  coming  on  the  woods- 
pike,  and  veterans  are  drawn  up  in  line  to  meet 
him.  Here  are  men  who  fought  at  Chippewa 
and  Lundy's  Lane  and  Lake  Erie  and  Chrys 
ler's  Farm,  and  here  are  some  old  chaps  who 
fought  long  before  at  Plattsburg  and  Ticon- 
deroga.  Joseph  Bonaparte,  the  ex-king  of 
Spain,  so  like  his  mighty  brother  at  St. 
Helena,  is  passing  the  line.  He  steps  proudly, 
in  ruffles  and  green  velvet.  Gondolas  with 
liveried  gondoliers,  and  filled  with  fair  women, 
are  floating  on  the  still  lake,  now  rich  with 
shadow-pictures  of  wood  and  sky  and  rocky 
shore. 

A  burst  of  melody  rings  in  the  great  harp  of 
the  woodland.  In  that  trumpet  peal,  it  seems, 
a  million  voices  sing :  — 

Hail,  Columbia,  happy  land! 

Slowly  the  line  begins  to  limp  along.  There 
are  wooden  legs  and  crutches  and  empty  sleeves 
in  that  column.  D'ri  goes  limping  in  front,  his 
right  leg  gone  at  the  knee  since  our  last  charge. 
Draped  around  him  is  that  old  battle-flag  of  the 
Lawrence.  I  march  beside  him,  with  only  this 


D'RI  AND   I  361 

long  seam  across  my  cheek  to  show  that  I  had 
been  with  him  that  bloody  day  at  Chrysler's. 
We  move  slowly  over  a  green  field  to  the  edge 
of  the  forest.  There,  in  the  cool  shadow,  are 
ladies  in  white,  and  long  tables  set  for  a  feast. 
My  dear  wife,  loved  of  all  and  more  beautiful 
than  ever,  comes  to  meet  us. 

"Sweetheart,"  she  whispers,  "I  was  never  so 
proud  to  be  your  wife." 

"  And  an  American,"  I  suggest,  kissing  her. 

"  And  an  American,"  she  answers. 

A  bugle  sounds ;  the  cavalcade  is  coming. 

"  The  President !  "  they  cry,  and  we  all  begin 
cheering. 

He  leads  the  escort  on  a  black  horse,  a  fine 
figure  in  military  coat  and  white  trousers,  his 
cocked  hat  in  hand,  a  smile  lighting  his  face. 
The  count  receives  him  and  speaks  our  wel 
come.  President  Monroe  looks  down  the  war- 
scarred  line  a  moment.  His  eyes  fill  with  tears, 
and  then  he  speaks  to  us. 

"Sons  of  the  woodsmen,"  says  he,  conclud 
ing  his  remarks,  "  you  shall  live  in  the  history 
of  a  greater  land  than  that  we  now  behold  or 
dream  of,  and  in  the  gratitude  of  generations 


D'RI  AND  I  362 

yet  unborn,  long,  long  after  we  are  turned  to 
dust." 

And  then  we  all  sing  loudly  with  full  hearts : 

O  land  I  love  !  —  thy  acres  sown 

With  sweat  and  blood  and  shattered  bone  — 

God's  grain,  that  ever  doth  increase 

The  goodly  harvest  of  his  peace. 


Eben    Holden 

A  Tale  of  the  North  Country 

By  IRVING  BACHELLER.     Bound  in  red  silk  cloth, 

decorative  cover,  gilt  top,  rough  edges*    Size,  5  x  7^. 

Price,  $J.50 

P'HE  most  popular  book  in  America. 
Within  eight  months  after  publication 
it  had  reached  its  two  hundred  and  fiftieth 
thousand.  The  most  American  of  recent 
novels,  it  has  indeed  been  hailed  as  the 
long  looked  for  "  American  novel." 

William  Dean  Ho  wells  says  of  it :  "  I  have 
read  c  Eben  Holden  '  with  a  great  joy  in 
its  truth  and  freshness.  You  have  got 
into  your  book  a  kind  of  life  not  in 
literature  before,  and  you  have  got  it 
there  simply  and  frankly.  It  is  cas  pure 
as  water  and  as  good  as  bread/ ' 

Edmund  Clarence  Stedman  says  of  it :  "It  is 
a  forest-scented,  fresh-aired,  bracing,  and 
wholly  American  story  of  country  and 
town  life." 


Lothrop  Publishing  Company  -  -  Boston 


When  the  Land  was  Young 

Being  the  True  Romance  of  Mistress  Antoinette 
Huguenin  and  Captain  Jack   Middleton 


full    of    border 

wars  between  the  Spaniards  of  Florida  and  the  English  colonists, 
and  against  this  historical  background  Miss  McLaws  has  thrown  a 
story  that  is  absorbing,  dramatic,  and  brilliant. 


NEW  YORK  WORLD: 

"  Lovely  Mistress  Antoinette  Huguenin!     What  a  girl  she  is!  " 

NEW  YORK  JOURNAL: 

"  A  story  of  thrill  and  adventure." 

SAVANNAH  NEWS: 

"  Among  the  entertaining  romances  based  upon  the  colonial  days  of 
American  history  this  novel  will  take  rank  as  one  of  the  most  notable  —  a 
dramatic  and  brilliant  story." 

ST.  Louis  GLOBE-DEMOCRAT: 

"  If  one  is  anxious  for  a  thrill,  he  has  only  to  read  a  few  pages  of  '  When 
the  Land  was  Young '  to  experience  the  desired  sensation.  .  .  .  There  is 
action  of  the  most  virile  type  throughout  the  romance.  ...  It  is  vividly 
told,  and  presents  a  realistic  picture  of  the  days  "  when  the  land  was  young.  ' 

Lothrop  Publishing  Company  -  -  Boston 


J.   Devlin --Boss 

A   Romance  of  American   Politics 

By  FRANCIS  CHURCHILL  WILLIAMS.    J2mo,  $1.50 


*  I  fHIS  is  a  story  of  the  typical  figure  in  the  shaping  of 
•*•  American  life.  "Jimmy,'*  shrewd,  strong,  re 
sourceful,  clean-hearted,  is  vital ;  and  the  double  love  story 
which  is  woven  about  him  gives  an  absolutely  true  and 
near  view  of  the  American  boss.  The  revelations  of  politi 
cal  intrigue  —  from  the  governing  of  a  ward  to  the  upset 
ting  of  the  most  sensational  Presidential  Convention  which 
this  country  has  seen  —  are,  as  sketched  in  this  romance, 
of  intense  interest ;  the  scenes  and  characters  in  them  are 
almost  photographic.  But  above  all  of  these  stands  Jimmy 
himself,  unscrupulous  as  a  politician,  honorable  as  a  man 
— Jimmy,  the  playmate,  the  counselor,  and  the  lover 
of  the  winsome,  clear-eyed  Kate,  the  stanch  friend  of 
herself  and  of  her  son — Jimmy,  with  a  straight  word 
always  for  those  who  are  true  to  him,  a  helping  hand 
for  all  who  need  it,  and  a  philosophy  which  is  irresistible. 


Lothrop  Publishing  Company  -  -  Boston 


The   Potter   and  the  Clay 

A  Romance  of  To-day 

By  MAUD  HOWARD  PETERSON.  Bound  in  blue  cloth, 
decorative  cover,  rough  edges,  gilt  top.  Four  drawings  by 
Charlotte  Harding.  Size,  5x7^.  Price  $1.50 


ONE  of  the  strongest  and  most  forceful  of  re 
cent  novels,  now  attracting  marked  attention, 
and  already  one  of  the  most  successful  books  of 
the  present  year.  The  characters  are  unique, 
the  plot  is  puzzling,  and  the  action  is  remarkably 
vivid.  Readers  and  critics  alike  pronounce  it  a 
romance  of  rare  strength  and  beauty.  The  scenes 
are  laid  in  America,  Scotland,  and  India ;  and  one 
of  the  most  thrilling  and  pathetic  chapters  in  re 
cent  fiction  is  found  in  Trevelyan's  heroic  self- 
sacrifice  during  the  heart-rending  epidemic  of 
cholera  in  the  latter  country.  The  story  through 
out  is  one  of  great  strength. 

Margaret  E.  Sangster :  "  From  the  opening 
chapter,  which  tugs  at  the  heart,  to  the  close, 
when  we  read  through  tears,  the  charm  of  the 
book  never  flags.  It  is  not  for  one  season,  but 
of  abiding  human  interest." 

Minot  J.  Savage :  "  I  predict  for  the  book  a  very 
large  sale,  and  for  the  authoress  brilliant  work 
in  the  future." 

Boston  Journal:  "  One  of  the  most  remarkable  books 
of  the  year.  Brilliant,  but  better  than  that, 
tender." 


Lothrop  Publishing  Company   j*   Boston 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


^aAug'STKl 
**Wf*  05 

nrn  2?  >§S6 

LD  21-100m-6,'56                                         General  Library 
(B9311  si  0)476                                      University  of  California 
Berkeley 

/ 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


